


Rhodonite

by charcoalscenes, LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, POV Alternating, POVs are mostly chronological but will sometimes cross each other, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vector flees after a trinket in Yuma’s attic forces him to relive a painful memory. Unfortunately, Yuuma isn’t quite chill with letting him be self-destructive.</p><p>Communication, it turns out, is both harder and easier than it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written submission for Team Foilshipping/VecYuu in the 2015 YGOShipOlympics! The prompt was Regret (Challenge: Promises)
> 
> Please mind the content warnings in the tags, and check out the gnarly cover art by LittleLinor! Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

The only thing more pathetically disorganized than Yuuma's head, Vector thinks, has to be his room.

Well, not his _actual_ room, the large space so aseptically tidy and dead-looking you could have thought it belonged to Mizael, too familiar after the number of times he's ended up crashing there. The tiny attic, that honestly probably isn't that tiny at all, except all the junk in it makes it hard to walk, much less sit comfortably without touching the person next to you.

(Yuuma only has himself to blame for the hands that routinely find themselves up his shirt, really)

"Your father really has weird taste," he points out, holding up a mask that looks suspiciously similar to the shape Don Thousand had taken to trap him and the other Barian Emperors.

"Excuse _you_ ," Yuuma counters from the corner where he's pretending to do his homework (Vector gives him another ten minutes before he gives up). "It has _cultural relevance_."

"Do you even know what that means?" he asks with a sweet smile. Yuuma sticks his tongue at him.

"Yes. Shut up."

He puts the mask down and keeps looking through the piles of mismatched artefacts.

"Why'd he bring back so much stuff anyway? You'd think he'd have given it to museums. Fame, money, all that."

"He said he wanted to remember the places he's been. Look, if you're so curious why don't you ask _him_? I'm trying to work here."

"You're the one who invited me," Vector points out.

"Yeah and if you _helped_ me with this we'd already be done."

"But where's the fun in that? It's cute watching you struggle."

Yuuma huffs and turns back to his book, mumbling something about someone needing a better hobby, when his mother's voice rings from downstairs.

"Yuuma? Can you help me for a second?"

Yuuma's face drops down on the book.

"Augh--COMING!" He stands and nods towards Vector. "I'll be right back."

And leaves without waiting for an answer he knows isn't going to come.

* * *

The room feels strange without Yuuma. Maybe it's because he fills the messed up space like it's natural to him--or maybe it's because all those trinkets make him feel like Kazuma is watching him somehow.

He's still not sure what to make of the man--or his wife, for that matter. When Yuuma had spilled the beans on them being together, he'd kind of expected to find himself with the Respectable Citizen equivalent of a knife to his throat, but Yuuma's parents had been civil to him. Outwardly warm, even.

He knows there's more to it. There's just no way either of them buys the face he gives Yuuma's sister and grandmother. They know who he is and what he's capable of.

(Or, well, what he was capable of back when he could still hop dimensions or crush people with stone arms, but details. He's still got some tricks up his sleeve, somewhere between the knife wielding and the theatrics.)

He's not sure whether they just think Yuuma's mature enough to handle himself (not like they gave him a choice, vanishing into thin air for years, really, he's definitely not the first person who fucked up Yuuma that way) or whether they're waiting for him to fuck up so they can step in. What he knows is that their smiles _piss him off_ , but it's not like he can do anything about it. Yuuma might try to ease things between them, but he wouldn't outright go against his parents after he finally got them back.

All he can do is wait and keep smiling. It's like fucking Shingetsu all over again.

There's an urge to break something rising, and he can't exactly afford to do _that_ , so he just goes back to rummaging through the antiquities.

The more he sorts through them, the more he thinks that Kazuma does indeed have weird taste. There's a bunch of stuff that would probably have made the youngest Arclight brat faint, as well as jewelry (he's not wearing it or displaying it so why didn't he get money for them? Nerds are beyond his comprehension), and even a child's toy in a corner.

It's when he finds a small cup with Nasch's crest that he finally grows suspicious.

The feeling of déjà-vu he's got from some of these isn't purely because he's visited Yuuma's room before.

That sword over there is definitely something Nasch's army used. That helmet--he might not be a pro at japanese history, but it sure looks like the right time period for a certain idiot warlord.

And that cloth there--

He swears, recognizing the corner of his own insignia on what he's now suspecting is a ship's sail. How it survived the battles to get there, he has no idea.

"Fucking meddler," he mutters under his breath, pushing the folded sail aside.

A small box drags against the floor with it and catches on the floorboard, almost spilling its contents.

He picks it up, absently opening it before putting it down on the cloth.

And instantly regrets his decision, his hands frozen mid-motion.

The earrings inside have barely aged, the gold easily preserved through the ages. There's no mistaking the specific craftsmanship in the clasp, even if the large, heavy dangling triangles hadn't been painfully familiar.

They're thinner than his had been, and the last time he had seen a similar pair, they had been drenched in blood.

_Fuck_.

He hasn't even noticed his breath sped up until Yuuma noisily climbs up the ladder again and he has to get it under control.

"--why couldn't she just ask Obomi--hey are you okay?" he asks as he pulls himself up and into the room. "Your face is scary."

"I'm fine," he snaps, closing his hand on the box and its contents before Yuuma can notice it. "What was that about?"

"She just needed help lifting something--said she couldn't both lift and reach under it." He dodges Vector's legs to go back to sit next to his books, and Vector uses the time to slip the box into his pocket. "She didn't want to wait for Grandma and Obomi."

"Huh."

It's not the best answer, but he can't wrap his mind around a better one right now. His lungs still feel strange, like he's winded from adrenaline he never got, and the tingling in his earlobes abruptly reminds him that he never actually got his ears pierced since he was thrown back into a human body.

He feels the weight anyway, in his ears and against his leg.

"How are you good at this stuff," Yuuma sighs, looking at his book. "You didn't even go to school for like five hundred years."

"I didn't go to school before that either."

"Huh?"

" _Tutors_ , Yuuma. You think my _loving father_ was gonna let his son make friends with other children? It could have given him _ideas_." Yuuma gives a quiet "oh," but before he can say more, Vector cuts him off. "Like friendship! That would be terrible. I can see his point now."

Yuuma frowns, so he gives him a sweet smile, something vicious twisting inside him.

"What?~"

"Why d'you have to _say_ stuff like that?"

"Well it's true. Look where friendship got Nasch. Look where it got _you_."

"Yeah? And what d'you think brought you back, huh?"

"You being too soft, mostly. Reminds me of someone."

Yuuma blinks.

"Huh?"

"Forget it." He stands, his lungs still tight. "I'm out of here. All this _friendship_ is choking me, I need some air."

He turns and drops down the hole into Yuuma's room, refusing to watch Yuuma's face as he calls his name, equal parts surprised and offended.

He really does need some air.

* * *

 

“Where did your nice friend run off to, Yuuma?” Haru asks when she comes home, pleasant and with Obomi at her heels with bags of groceries. “He looked in a hurry to leave, and we just bought the two of you some treats to share.”

“ _I’ll_ eat them!” Yuuma huffs. He knows he sounds moody but can’t stop himself, and tries to make up for it by taking some bags from the house robot, helping them sort out the contents. “Whatever you have that’s enough for two, it’s all mine now! Anything tasty that we were supposed to have _shared together_ would just be wasted on that guy!”

“Yuuma?” Mirai’s voice addresses him from near the doorway, but Yuuma doesn’t turn to face her; not that he needs to, his speech by itself already disclosing enough information on what happened. “Did you get into a fight?”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuma replies in a tone that sounds like the opposite would have actually been preferable. “Vector just _walked out_. I’ve been bugging him to do this sleepover thing for ages, and _now_ he gets in one of his moods.”

He nearly crushes an eggplant before Obomi pinches his side, and he yelps, dropping it into the robot’s clutches. “Chill, Yuuma.” Obomi’s advises.

“It’s not _me_ who has to chill, Obomi!” He beseeches, turning fully to his robot even as the sentient machine’s wheels turn away from him and back to the food. “It’s _him_. I’m always chill, but sometimes that guy can be like a seesaw!–”

“I’m sure you two will make up. Can you be a dear and put these cans on the shelf there.” Haru prods Yuuma gently to his new task, and he does it with half a mind, actions almost as mechanic as Obomi’s while he continues to grit his teeth and grumble. “Just remember to talk to him once you’ve calmed down. You know sometimes the people we love can be hurtful sometimes.”

“Right, grandma,” Mirai quips, still eavesdropping, and Yuuma harumphs at the simplistic cheer from his family. Her steps come into the room, and as she speaks, Yuuma turns and sees her frowning at him. “But _has_ he hurt you just now, Yuuma?”

It’s easy to forget, in the midst of another lover’s spat and all the grudge those can inspire, how awfully close Mirai and Kazuma got to acting like _actual meddlesome parents_ after finding out that he and Vector are dating. In the end, their desire to allow their children a larger amount of free reign over their lives than most parents would won out, and the undoubtedly long list of reasons for why they should worry about this relationship is rarely brought up. But Mirai’s expression now strikes Yuuma as awfully similar to ones she has every time she mentions Vector and asks her son, tone forcibly light, “…But are you _sure_?”

Resentment prevents Yuuma from pressing himself to give an insincere answer, but his mother’s worry isn’t something he wants to stoke regardless. “It’s nothing,” he grumbles, looking at the cans he’s arranging rather than at her. “He’ll come around, he always does. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll come back tonight!”

“Oh, good!” Haru cheers. Behind him, Mirai stays quiet and observes her son. “That means the extra snacks we bought won’t be in vain, Obomi. Yuuma, why don’t you help us cook tonight? The way to a man’s heart is–”

“ _Hah!_ Why should I cook for that guy!” The irritation comes back in full force at the idea of doing his intentionally missing boyfriend a favor. “The last time I tried, he wouldn’t even admit that he liked some of it! Yes, I burn things easily, but did he appreciate that the flavor was still there past the burned parts? _No, Obomi_ ,” he once again vents to the robot’s dispassionate ear as the metal claws inevitably reach for the canned food to finish the job he started. “Vector _didn’t_.”

He does end up helping with cooking anyway; Haru has a way of going from admirably cheerful to snapping at the smallest manner of rudeness, and as always, it startles Yuuma into working to please her. He continues to growl over his work all the way through, though, chopping and mixing ingredients with more force than necessary and nearly spilling larger chunks to the floor if not for Obomi harassing him into calming down.

He does, eventually, even as Vector continues to _not be there_ and not contact him; Mirai peers at him, her reprimands quiet and distracted, and that Yuuma knows part of her wants to bring something _else_ up besides his bad manners is wearisome. Being under her stare makes it feel like he _has_ to calm down if he wants to keep dating Vector in peace.

And if it helps that Haru (and later Akari, when she joins them) teases him with the fact that Yuuma is _cooking for the boy he loves_ and how Vector will _feel Yuuma’s heart through the food he gives_ distracts him from the fallout enough for him to blush, it’s only for the few of them to know.

* * *

 

Kazuma and Akari return home in time for dinner that night. They boast of what happened during their father-daughter rendezvous over the only slightly charred food, and even though it doesn’t lift Yuuma’s mood by much, he silently appreciates it when they exaggerate how antagonistic the birds were towards his father today once they get a read on why he’s so sullen.

He doesn’t even know what they were supposed to do this weekend. As soon as he heard that this weekend’s weather would be perfect, he had impressions of stargazing, Vector telling him how pathetically cheesy he is but _not leaving_ , of going out to town the next day, maybe venture to one of the districts outside Heartland the next.

He doesn’t bother sitting out on the roof or in the yard that night, and is very tempted to just close the blinds of his attic window. He ignores the sight of the night sky instead, flopping down to where he’d been trying to finish his homework earlier, when Vector’s usual and harmless snark had distracted him in a welcomed sort of way that the distraction of his _absence_ doesn’t share.

It becomes late enough that his eyes begin to sting, but he loses track of time, eventually completing his assignment with the barest effort, most of his concentration honed on the D-Gazer laid out before him and how Vector hasn’t made it ring or beep once since this morning. On the days when they argue, the apologies tended to arrive, at latest, before either of them went to sleep the same day, but Yuuma ends up sleeping atop his schoolwork and the cushions laid out around him, closing his eyes to the sight of a still-inactive Gazer.

In the middle of the next day, Yuuma howls his woes to Obomi once more. “What is _wrong_ with him!” He demands, close to shoving his Gazer at the robot’s face. “Look at this! I should have been getting flooded with messages by now! _Dozens!_ What does a guy need to do to deserve an apology, huh, Obomi? Don’t I deserve an apology?” The robot had briefly slowed in sweeping the floor, but returned to a normal pace again once Yuuma made it clear that he was just bemoaning a repeating topic.

By nighttime, he approaches Obomi again, who is tempted to mimic a sigh at seeing his gloomy face and already _knowing_ what he’s going to talk about.

“Maybe he’s sick?” He suggests quietly. He knows Obomi is listening considerately even though the wheels don’t turn to face him. It’s enough for him; he’s not sure what to make of his parents’ impression with Vector (or vice-versa, for that matter), and it makes Yuuma hesitate to go to them with relationship complaints. Akari has always been relatively standoffish to these things, and Haru is in the midst of a daily nap.

“He doesn’t usually let it go on for this long,” he continues. “Yeah, he can be an ass, but he can say sorry. He’s gotten better at saying sorry. Do you think something happened?”

“Why don’t you _call him_.” Sometimes it’s hard for Obomi to truly express emotions like _exasperation_ through tone of voice, but this comes close. “Have you tried reaching out already?”

“ _No_ ,” Yuuma pouts, and there – Obomi sighs. “Why _should_ I? He’s the one who should write to me first, right? Right? He’s always calling me a pushover. _Everyone_ thinks I can be a pushover, and this has been _one_ thing that I haven’t stepped down from. I can’t lose to him in this!”

“Okay.” Obomi replies, clipped, and turns a little bit away from Yuuma. “He’s probably fine. Why don’t you call one of his friends and ask how he’s doing?”

“But then he’d _know_ I’m worried about him!”

That does it; Obomi stays silent and wheels away.

* * *

 

The weekend passes with no word from Vector, and with Yuuma still just barely latching onto the last vestiges of his Totally Not A Pushover pride that tells him not to make the first call. Classes resume, and Yuuma greets Kotori and Tetsuo briefly before he tries very hard not to make it obvious that he’s looking for someone in the crowd of students.

“Hey, Yuuma,” Kotori tries to get his attention as he strains his neck and scans the school grounds for his rude boyfriend. “You haven’t mentioned how your weekend went. How did the three-day date go? Was it okay?”

Yuuma snaps his mouth shut to trap the miserable whine he makes from being too loud, but he’s saved from admitting what an abject failure that idea for a date was when he spots someone who can help him. “Shark!” He yells, waving and running to him. The Kamishiro’s pause climbing the steps of the school’s front entrance and turn at his call. “Shark, wait up! I have to ask you something!”

“What?” Shark replies, and as Yuuma stops in front of them, Rio brings it up, because of course more than one person has to remind him of it, “How was your time with Vector, Yuuma?”

A high-pitched laugh that was meant to sound more casual and dismissive but utterly botched the intent is not the response they were looking for, and Yuuma veers from answering by asking with the same merry tone, “Speaking of that guy! Have you seen him? He hasn’t said anything about what happened a few days ago, right?”

Rio blinks and answers him while Shark still cringes from the horrendous excuse for a cackle that had left Yuuma’s mouth. “No, we haven’t seen Vector. We thought he was coming to school with you.”

_What?_ “What?” He clears his throat, ignoring the suspicious side-eyeing the two Barians are giving him now. “I mean, he hasn’t come back to your house? At all?”

“He was with _you_ all weekend, wasn’t he?” Shark retorts. “Thanks for that, by the way. The house felt a little cleaner without him, if just for a little while.”

“And he wasn’t there when all of us left this morning, either,” Rio supplements, attempting to speak over her brother’s crudeness. “He might be there _now_ if he just felt like skipping school again, but I don’t know. So, he left before you came to school this morning?” She asks Yuuma. “Why would he do that?”

Yuuma shrugs, stopping himself from blurting out that Vector had left _long before_ just this morning. Shark speaks up again, near scolding. “You should’ve just dragged him to class with you instead of just letting him go off on his own. You know how fickle that bastard can be.”

The first bell rings throughout the school, and the mass of students begin to shuffle, trekking to their classrooms. Yuuma quickly speaks again and stops the Kamishiro’s from leaving. “Listen!” He lets some of the anxiety he feels seep into his voice, and the two pause at the urgency. “When Vector left, he kind of left in a bad mood. I’m worried.” He frowns and silently kicks himself for finally admitting it. “Do you guys know where I can find him if he’s not at your place or mine? I really want to see him.”

“Why don’t you see if he just went to class ahead of you first before you start getting all _sappy_!” Shark snarls. Rio sighs and sends him a weak glare for his reaction. “He’s probably inside already and was just trying to mess with you. And so what if he isn’t? He’ll turn up eventually. What am I to you, Yuuma, your boyfriend’s babysitter? What he’s up to isn’t my business.”

“Of course it is, Shark!” Yuuma whines, reaching out and clutching onto Shark’s arm. “We’re all friends, aren’t we? You need to help me; we can look out for Vector together!”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Shark snaps, already walking towards his classroom and forced to drag Yuuma’s weight with him. “Did I ever agree to that? Who needs to be looked after anyway? Vector’s more likely to _start_ shit than get hurt from it, and _that’s the only time I’ll have to get involved as far as I’m concerned…”_

Class begins moments later, with Yuuma admitting to Kotori and the others beforehand that he and Vector had snapped at each other when the latter stomped out and possibly went missing. The seat that Vector would have occupied in front of him and Kotori strikes him as conspicuously empty, and against both his and Kotori’s better judgement, he finally bites the bullet in the middle of Ukyo’s lecture and whips out his D-Gazer.

Kotori hisses beside him, “Don’t.” He gives her a sideways cringe in apology, but types out and sends the first message anyway.

_“are u ok? where are u”_

He swiftly returns the Gazer to his pocket, looking away from Kotori’s squint and feigning attention towards their teacher. He’s vaguely aware of Ukyo making some grand analogy connecting their lesson to how modern technology connects the ideas of thousands of people today, but minutes go by, and he still feels the dead weight of his Gazer in his pocket. It neither blinks or vibrates.

He takes it out again and peers at it behind the desk. Kotori doesn’t spare him a look this time and instead places her head in her hand. His fingers fly across the touchscreen, _“u didnt go to my house or shark’s this weekend. are u safe? pls answer”_

He doesn’t bother putting it back in his pocket, even though he already knows it’s more likely that Vector won’t give him an immediate reply anyway, despite the hope. Todoroki raises his hands and asks Ukyo something, and he takes the chance that Ukyo’s gaze focused on one student gives him to continue typing.

_“is something bothering you”_

He’s able to send the message when Ukyo calls on him, and he startles into sitting straight, quickly shoving the Gazer into his pocket. “Yes, sir!”

“Please stand up, Tsukumo,” Ukyo sighs, and continues when Yuuma does. “Why are you playing with your D-Gazer during class? You know you’re only supposed to take it out when the lesson requires it. Now, I don’t want to have to confiscate it–”

“ _Please don’t confiscate it, Teacher!_ ” Yuuma screeches, leaning dramatically over his desk. Kotori’s hands move to further cover her face.

“Yes, well,” Ukyo stammers. “I said I don’t _want_ to, so–”

“I won’t use it again for the rest of class, I promise!” Yuuma folds his hands in front of him in beseechment. “You don’t understand, I really need to have it with me! I–… M-My cat! got in a bad mood last night and ran from home, so my family is working hard trying to find it!”

Todoroki and Tetsuo send him heavy grimaces in disbelief, but he trudges on. “They said they’d message me as soon as someone finds it, but I’m so worried!” Yuuma will vehemently deny it should anyone point it out later, but it’s genuinely upsetting how much emotional honesty he’s investing in this lie. He almost doesn’t have to fake the exaggerated distress and teary eyes when he finishes, “I’m so worried about my moody cat!”

Cathy quietly joins Kotori in resting her face in her hands. Ukyo rubs at his hair, groaning at the scene that’s been created in his classroom. Yuuma’s head hangs low over his desk, completely oblivious to the attention that every student is giving to his riveting story.

“It’s fine, Tsukumo.” Ukyo attempts to soothe, and quickly adds before another possible outburst comes up, “You can keep your Duel Gazer, but I don’t want to see it out unless I tell the whole class to wear it, understand? Please wait until after class to check on your cat.”

“I hope your cat is alright,” one of Yuuma’s classmates speaks up, a kind smile on her face. Her partner adds from beside her, “Yeah, we’re sorry to hear about that.”

“I’m sure your cat’s fine,” the boy sitting at the desk next to him comforts. “My cats come-and-go from my house all the time.”

“Really?” Yuuma perks up, not helping but feeling lightened by the support. “You guys think he’s okay? He’s not sick or trying to run away or anything?”

Kotori’s eyes roll to the ceiling, but she remains unseen as another classmate chirps, “Of course! Cats are fine outdoors. He’ll come back to you!”

“He will, won’t he!” Yuuma grins, and Ukyo is resigned to let the exchange happening between his students go on, knowing that Yuuma is close to feeling better and will sit back down soon anyway. “I can’t wait until I see him again. Thanks, everyone!”

Todoroki has since turned away from the actual genuine sadness and gratitude that Yuuma emits while telling his cover story. “You’re welcome, Yuuma,” a few of their classmates reply as Yuuma finally settles down again.

The rest of the day, unfortunately, is spent with a continuously silent Gazer. Yuuma goes back to carrying a raincloud over his head by break, where he sits with a few of his friends and the Barians over a light lunch, and continues to one-way message Vector.

_“are u coming back to school tmrw at least”_

_“kotori and shark are worried abt u too!”_

_“we’re eating lunch. i can bring your favorite tmrw if u come!”_

_“promise 2 talk 2 me later?”_

“Please cut that out, for fuck’s sake.” Shark mutters at him over his sandwich. “You look absolutely pathetic right now, Yuuma, you know that? If he’s in a bad way, he’s not going to answer no matter how many messages you send him.”

“The little kitty will get over himself soon,” Alit adds. Even Shark had snorted at hearing what Yuuma had compared Vector to earlier today once Kotori and Tetsuo told them. “He just needs time. It’s like when we were fighting on what to do with the spare room at the mansion. You remember that, guys?” He turns to Rio and Gilag in particular. “I think he was the only one who wanted a pool, and he avoided us for a week when we outvoted him into making it a gym instead.”

“Mm!” Gilag nods. “I remember th–”

“Do you think he’s gone swimming?” Yuuma interjects, leaning forward. “I went swimming with him once, but is that a _thing_ for him? Does he swim to relieve stress? Is there a public pool he goes to?”

“I, uhm,” Alit’s eyes knit together at the sudden interrogation. “…Yes? Right, Gilag? Guys?”

“We followed him to Whale Pool last month,” Rio hums, and answers the hopeful gleam in Yuuma’s eyes. “I doubt he’s been there the _whole_ time he’s been missing, but it’s one place to check.”

“BARian bar too, now that we’re talking about places he likes to go,” Gilag kindly helps, for which Yuuma could kiss him for; both he and Alit spare him soft supportive smiles for his efforts even as the rest of their friends insist that there’s little use in worrying over all of this. “He’s gone to the arcade too; who hasn’t.”

“And Gnorc’s Gym. He likes going there, which is ridiculous!” Alit pats Gilag’s arm, and the other Barian nods in agreement. “We have a gym at _home_ , but he’s still so bitter about the whole arrangement, he won’t even use it! Going through all that effort to go to another gym just to be a dick. Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” Yuuma cheers. Alit and Gilag blink at the unasked for and unexpected reply. “And that might be where I can find him and talk to him about whatever’s bothering him! That’s right; today, after school, is Operation Find Vector.”

“Woah, nice! A mission!” Alit, the easiest to contaminate with excitement, joins Yuuma in the moment of zeal. “I’m in! Let’s look for Vector together, Yuuma; it should be fun.”

“If that’s how Yuuma acts around him, maybe Vector is the one who just needed a vacation,” Shark mumbles quietly to his sister. Rio gives him an about-face but otherwise makes no comment.

 

* * *

 

_“we just got out of school! why arent u answering? are u still mad :(“_

Yuuma and Gilag team up and try for BARian while Alit and Kotori search in Gnorc’s Gym. If anyone noticed that Alit seemed slightly more excited to hit that location than usual now that Kotori’s by his side, or that he dressed to actually exercise rather than make a quick trip just to check if his fellow Emperor is there, no one mentioned it.

_“gilag and i are going to the barian!”_

_“the BAR i mean. the BARIAN.”_

_“the BARian i mean, the place where they sell drinks and food! can we meet there? please”_

_“♥”_

“What are we gonna do if he’s not there,” Yuuma moans, pulling at his hair as they walk closer to the place. “Or if he doesn’t meet us there? What kind of boyfriends _are_ we?”

“We can eat?” Gilag suggests, genuine. Yuuma groans but also genuinely considers it. “They have really good milkshakes. And their special rice dishes are to _die for_.”

“But what are we going to do if even after we eat, he’s not _there_?” How long is Vector planning to stay distant? It’s not like Vector had ever been the type to keep in contact with Yuuma 24/7, and they don’t exactly keep tabs on each other, but for Vector to completely go off the grid from his or the other Barians’ radars for this long – after that _sketchy argument_ – is a relatively new kind of situation.

Gilag lightly rests a hand on Yuuma’s shoulder. “Then we look for him somewhere else.” Yuuma still pouts, but he knows that Gilag is staying practical. “ _After_ you try one of their desserts. We’ll ask Kotori and Alit if they checked the pool, and if they haven’t, we’ll go there next.”

They end up ordering two slices of pie that they take a selfie over, and Yuuma quickly sends the picture to Vector before he digs in.

_“wish u were here,”_ he adds.

“Is it a good idea to send him that many messages?” Gilag asks, then, as he works on his own slice. Yuuma waits for him to continue, but he already knows where he’s getting at. “If it were someone else, I can see it being okay to do. I know Alit wouldn’t mind, or he’d do the same thing, and if _I_ got so many messages from the girl I love, then…”

Gilag pauses, laying his fork down to sigh wistfully at his own fantasy, and Yuuma mentally finishes his inquiry for him. _But with Vector, it might just piss him off._

He can envision it clearly: Vector’s Gazer beeping and vibrating and blinking non-stop until he finally just puts it into Inactive Mode or turns it off altogether. If angry enough, Vector might have even thrown the Gazer across the room by now, having been woken up from a nice nap by its noise or taking out his rage over something else onto it.

At the thought, Yuuma sighs for a very different reason than Gilag did, and with a very different mood. But he says, “At least he’d _pay attention_ to me.” Gilag was right; the food is delicious. Even so, he manages to mewl in pleasure from the taste while somehow resuming to eat it morosely. “It’s not like he’s the type to not say anything when something annoys him. If he was paying enough attention to my mail to get annoyed by them, he’d at least have sent me a text telling me to shut up. He hasn’t done even that…”

He chews slowly. Part of him wonders if Vector will eventually arrive if he kills enough time and eats gradually enough. He shakes his head at the vain hope. “This is good, by the way,” Yuuma mentions, sounding like tasty food is the saddest thing that could have happened.

Gilag finishes what’s on his plate in companionable silence, and sits with Yuuma as the shorter one is treated to at least one sweet thing today.

A little over an hour later, they follow through with Gilag’s Plan B and meet Kotori and Alit in Whale Pool. Alit is curiously out-of-breath and smelling of bar soap, but Kotori discloses nothing as the four of them shuffle throughout the indoor and outdoor areas searching for familiar red hair.

Yuuma and Alit split up – Yuuma in the showers and Alit in the public toilets – and each call Vector’s name. Plenty of heads turn Yuuma’s way, sending him questioning looks, especially since he’s the only one fully clothed. “Vector!” He tries again, not helping but eye the closed curtains of the showers. “It’s Yuuma! Our friends are really worried about you! Are you in there?”

“Is someone missing?” Yuuma hears people murmur behind him, and feels the beginnings of nervous sweat as he strains his neck just enough so that he might catch the haircolor of the people showering. “Is it a lost child, you think?”

Yuuma leaves before he’s tempted to tip-toe and peek even more into the showers. He finds Kotori first by the lockers, and shakes his head at her dejectedly.

He takes his Gazer out again as the background music from Whale Pool’s speakers pause, and a voice says, “This is an announcement. We’re asking if someone can please come to the front desk: Vector… Uhm…?”

“Just Vector,” Alit’s softer voice clarifies near the microphone. “He’s missing.”

“Can _Vector_ please come to the front desk,” the announcer repeats. “You’re being looked for.”

“That poor kid must be scared,” a lady tsks from nearby.

The message is told twice more before pop music resumes playing, and Yuuma can’t help but look down, already feeling in his gut that Vector isn’t there to hear Alit call for him.

It’s nightfall by the time they walk out the Pool’s entrance, and Yuuma can’t help but bring up as his three companions volunteer to walk him home to lighten his mood, “Do you think Vector _knows_ we love him?”

“Nah,” Alit answers easily, grimacing when Kotori elbows his side.

“Of course he does,” Kotori insists. “How can he not when you show him so often, Yuuma? He’s just going through a lot, maybe, and needs time to really get used to it all.”

“I’m going through a lot too!” Alit points out and goes mostly ignored. “I was already a king, and now I have to go through _high school_? I still don’t get why Durbe is so committed to studying.”

“Is it hard?” Yuuma asks. All the Barians, to him, gave such strong impressions of being able to adapt, and quickly too – acting like any other student with unique interests (whether it was Vector’s slightly worrisome interest in fighting styles, Alit’s desire to exercise near-constantly, Mizael’s penchant for gushing about dragons at the slightest mention of the topic) that he sometimes questioned just how difficult it supposedly must have been for all of them to adjust.

“Sure it is,” Alit turns to Gilag as he answers, and the two share a look. “It’s doable, sure, but it’s a little reeling. Nothing we can’t handle, though.”

“And school isn’t _that_ bad,” Gilag argues, to which Alit scoffs at.

They reach Yuuma’s neighborhood and slow their pace, ready to see him off and lead Kotori home next. Yuuma is about to thank them when Alit adds last minute, “But Vector is a little different from the rest of us, I’ll admit.”

“A little?” Yuuma squeaks.

“There was a long while when we all got along just fine, it felt like,” Alit muses. “But after that, he started drifting from the rest of us, even before we lost Nasch. I tried not to say anything since I knew he wouldn’t like it or listen to me, but he seemed lonely for a long time. And it only got worse after, you know, everything started happening.”

_That_ Vector seems almost like such a far cry from the Vector that exchanges bored looks with Yuuma from across the classroom, who rolls his eyes at Yuuma holding his hand and handing him a present even as his ears turn red, but Yuuma knows better. He fiddles with the Gazer in his pocket and says, “I don’t want him to feel that alone again.”

He lets them go soon after, hoping they know how grateful he is that they’ve stuck by him, and flops down on the bed that Vector had often insisted on resting on whenever he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with fitting two people on the hammock upstairs.

Was it the attic, then? Yuuma plays with the thought; Vector made his opinion of just how filthy the room upstairs is well-known – maybe he got disgusted by how much clutter is up there and left in a huff after really seeing it.

“He would have at least insulted me more if that’s all there was to it,” Yuuma berates himself, imagining it now: Vector texting him back with, _“if friendship means having to be with a slob like u, count me out!!! >:P”_

He stares at the Gazer in his hands once more. He hadn’t sent any voicemails or texts since sharing the picture of him and Gilag, thinking with some guilt that, at the off-chance that Vector _was_ at Whale Pool and really just trying to avoid Yuuma, he could catch Vector there in surprise.

He confesses it to him now, though, sending the text before he could change his mind, and goes on with another, _“im sorry im looking for u. its weird right? but the way u suddenly went missing after saying those things is scary (╥﹏╥)”_

_“tell me ure ok and just need space and i’ll stop? as long as u promise to see me again soon!!”_

_“see u tomrw???”_

Yuuma changes his clothes and readies himself for bed, climbing to the attic while writing “ _goodnight”_ on his Gazer before he stops. He doesn’t say it often, and sometimes the worry of being made fun of for it makes it hard, but he figures it’s as good of a time as any, and so sends it before settling onto his hammock to sleep.

_“i love u”_

The next afternoon consists of Yuuma taking a page from Gilag’s past example and taking notes for the sake of his mission. He writes an actual list of all the places he’s gone together with Vector to, and adds all the places their friends speculate he might venture to alone. He _thinks_ he can get to checking all these areas in one day, even as Todoroki is telling him he’d have to hurt himself trying.

Alit is replaced with Tetsuo after school, the former having agreed to meet with some club members today. The four of them split up in pairs once more and disperse to everywhere from the grocery to a shop for Special Objects. Kotori drags Yuuma out of there before he attempts to ask a supposedly all-knowing, omnipresent doll where the hell his boyfriend is.

They proceed to stop by a few of the different café and coffee shops that stand relatively near their school and the Barians’ home, asking the employees if they’ve caught sight the man Yuuma saved a picture of in his Duel Pad.

“He comes here sometimes,” one girl says behind the counter, and Yuuma deflates when she finishes, “but I haven’t seen him the last few days I’ve come in. He always uses a different name to sign his drink with. A lot of people do, but his are weird. ‘Rock King’? ‘The Rock’? When he said to sign it with ‘Nasch Sucks’ he had to tell me how to spell it.”

The information is interesting but ultimately pointless. Still, Yuuma punches a quick message to Vector once more, informing the other that he heartily approves of all the nicknames and potential rock puns that his lover could come up with.

An electronics store is their last stop before they once again retreat for the night – despite that Yuuma’s list isn’t close to getting fully checked.

“A lot of places are going to close soon, anyway,” Tetsuo says, and pats Yuuma on the back as their groups leads him back to his house again. “We’ll do this again tomorrow. And who knows, he might turn up by then.”

“We haven’t checked the movies yet,” Kotori chirps, helping Tetsuo guide Yuuma home by holding onto Yuuma’s arm. “We’ll go there first. I wonder what kinds of movies Vector likes?”

“Bad ones.” Gilag trails behind them. “Sometimes we have movie nights at home, but we never watch anything he brings up.”

“We’ll check all the showtimes for shitty movies tomorrow, then,” Tetsuo hums. “You know, by the time we find Vector, or he shows up, he’ll have loads of schoolwork to catch up on.”

It’s an alright image to go home to, at least. As Yuuma eats a late dinner with his parents’ company, he thinks of Vector sneering over the piles of lessons he’d missed out on. He shares the fantasy with Vector after the meal in another brief text. _“serves u right!!!”_

Despite Tetsuo’s words, which made sense, Yuuma doesn’t change out of the clothes he wore outside this afternoon, and sits in the attic with his Duel Pad open to the list he wrote earlier, considering a few of the places he and his friends didn’t have time to pass by yet. There were even a few that only opened in the later hours of the night.

He waits until the house is quiet before crawling out his window and climbing down from the outside. It’s something he’s done several times before and only got caught doing once, so he’s confident even with his parents’ addition to the household. He gets down successfully and sprints down the road, not pushing his luck by standing around wondering where to keep looking for Vector first.

His mind is made up by the time he reaches the next block, and he takes out his Gazer to mail Vector again. _“are u awake?”_

The sidewalks are empty, and only two cars drive past Yuuma in the time it takes for him to walk to Ruby Road – a nickname of the small part of town rather than an actual street name.

“Why the hell would Vector be _there_ ,” Shark had yelled at Alit during lunchtime when the latter had shared the possibility with Yuuma and their company. The snap had been too sudden and harsh for it to simply be Shark thinking that Alit was wrong; he hadn’t wanted Yuuma to consider it, hadn’t wanted Yuuma to investigate, and his response to Alit’s blunder made it obvious.

Despite looking guilty, Alit pushed back. “He should know!” Nervously, he glanced between Yuuma and Shark, who still looked angered at Alit’s openness. “And it’s not like Vector is one-hundred percent _there_ ; he’s probably staying at a hotel or another friend’s place or something! But isn’t it better to think that Vector might just be blowing off some steam at some shady place as opposed to making Yuuma worry that he’s _really hurt_ somewhere less safe?”

“That already _is_ less safe!” Shark countered. “How is thinking he could be there comforting?”

Lunch had finished with a heavier air than usual, tense from the argument and the continued absence of the one who’d helped inspire it. Alit was still scratching his head in irritation when he’d given Yuuma one more item to write onto his list.

“Yeah, it’s a motel near Ruby Road that he checked into a few times.” He waved off Yuuma’s gratitude. “He’s probably not there. Sorry again I can’t help you guys today. And for…that,” he gestured vaguely behind him where their group had sat.

Yuuma figures he can look around before going to the actual motel, though. Despite what he’s heard from rumors and what he could’ve imagined from seeing in movies, the streets that make up Ruby Road appear normal, like any other spot in town consisting of their fair share of shops and other spaces, with just as many flashing lights as most else in Heartland during normal hours. Though there’s no denying that the shops here have a specific kind of taste. It’s actually easy to see Vector walk down here with ease.

He tries to as well. “Hi,” someone greets him from a bar’s doorway. Yuuma purses his lips and ignores him; these streets are considerably more crowded than the ones he had to pass to get here, so he’s not really worried.

There are plenty of places guarded, one with a line of people waiting to walk through the doors that two men stand before, but most with just one admitting people in as soon as they step forward. The sight of those, more than much else here, make Yuuma feel alienated, and he frowns, not knowing where to go with the thought that Vector could easily stride past those men without much effort while Yuuma himself would be kicked out before even getting a look inside.

He distracts himself with taking his Gazer out again and shuffling into one of the more inconspicuous shops. There’s no bell to signal his arrival, and Yuuma sees no store attendants nearby to berate him for entering. Instead, he blushes by himself and forces himself not to act too abashed by the shelves of lewd book and movie covers that now surround him.

Coming here was pointless! Vector would more likely be in some place Yuuma would have to sneak into than a porn shop where anybody could walk in. Frustrated, he texts Vector quickly, as though the faster the message is sent, the sooner he could leave.

_“im outside”_

He doesn’t know what good could come out of telling Vector that now, only that, after two days of mailing Vector with by-the-minute updates on how much he’s missed him and how he wants to see him so badly that he’s been actively looking, it’s become something of a habit that even at an hour when his boyfriend could be sleeping, Yuuma’s still going at it.

Yuuma leaves the store as soon as the sound of footsteps come close, and he clarifies his last message with another anxious text as he exits. _“not outside ur place i mean, idk where u are, but i mean outside”_

_“outside my house i mean”_

_“are u outside too?”_  

He can check the address Alit is leading him to before going out of his way to crouch through the backdoors of the other places here; it might be the smarter thing to do. It’d be as easy as asking the person at the front if someone with Vector’s name or appearance checked in, maybe look into the files himself if no one is at the desk, so long as he’s not caught.

* * *

 

Time, Vector thinks, is a really weird fucking thing.

Five hundred years of hanging out in an empty world of pink rock and disembodied souls, with no distraction aside from tallying Nasch's annoying moments and the occasional meddling in the human world, and the boredom was just a constant, never getting better but never really getting _worse_ , either, or not enough to send him off the deep end anyway. The years were long, but melded into each other fast. But ever since he's been back in the human world, he's found a single day can last ages, and frustration he used to nurse for literal ages catches up to him within hours, _minutes_ sometimes, and it's not the first time he thinks he's going to go mad again.

Back then, he'd actually played some things in his head as _distraction_. Now, the intrusive thoughts force their way into his mind and _stay_ , stretching hours into what seems like years, keeping him prisoner inside the distorted bubble of his own perception of time.

He hates it.

He hates the way life goes on around him, the brightness and colours of this fucking city, the kids walking everywhere and laughing and arguing and living. It gets on his senses even more than his nerves, burning at his skin and eyes and ears, and the anger rises, faster than it ever did as a Barian, hazing over his brain like a black fog.

It's too fast and too slow at the same time, rushing sensations but perception slowed down to an obscene crawl, and by the time he reaches the old hideout he'd been sleeping in as "Shingetsu," all he wants is to pass out for five hundred years.

He sleeps.

Not long enough, definitely not the year or two he'd have needed, but by the time he wakes up, the sun and muffled sounds of city life have both disappeared, and he can finally roll on his back and stare at the ceiling.

It's cracked, the white paint peeling off to reveal the mould under it, and that, more than anything, feels like home.

 

* * *

 

A day and about a year's worth of emptying his mind of ruminating memories later, his D gazer lights up, projecting a pink light on the grey concrete.

He rolls over.

The box in his pocket bites into his leg, and he swears and pulls it out, slamming it a bit too hard on the ground next to him.

_Fuck this shit_ , he thinks, both at the pain and at the hint of guilt he feels at the sound of it hitting and rasping against the concrete.

The message is, when he checks it, obviously Yuuma's.

**are u ok? where are u**

He cringes.

Of _course_ Yuuma would go ahead and decide to be _worried_ , he usually calls back by then, if only because giving explanations about his foul moods isn't something he wants to deal with and Yuuma can be surprisingly accommodating if you give him a treat--or, in most cases, renewed contact and a hint of an apology.

Kid's issues are as unmissable as this godforsaken city's neon lights, but then again, who is he to talk.

So now instead of Yuuma's cute, easily manipulable anger, he has to deal with his concern. And that, from experience, is far harder to divert.

"Fuck."

Instead of answering, he pockets the box again, leaves his D gazer hidden behind some old cardboard, and steps out.

 

* * *

 

The sun outside feels as blinding and scalding as the day before, but he welcomes it this time. He lets it burn through whatever tries to take hold on his brain, walking through the much welcome emptiness.

The good thing about Heartland City is that it's easy for one to lose oneself in it. Even in the middle of the day, there are people about. Children too young to go to school, housewives on their daily walks, students napping on city lawns. Animals. Robots.

He slides his hands into his pockets and his body into the human traffic.

Walking, at least, clears his head. Shaping his body language to the occasion to make himself invisible is just the right kind of not-focus he needs, something more physical than mental; half an hour's walk through the city and he finally feels well enough to eat.

Or, more accurately, finally receives his body's firm notification that, having left Yuuma's place before dinner almost two full days ago, he's fucking starving.

He stops at the first burger place he finds. His taste buds are more refined than _that_ , but anything containing rice reminds him of Yuuma, and it's too hot for ramen.

The spicy seafood dishes he would also be familiar with are, thankfully, served nowhere in the city.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, he's got more grease in his stomach than he remembers having in his life, much lighter pockets after emptying most of his change, and still no idea what to do with the situation he's in.

Not that he's really thought about it. Every time he tries, his brain just skids over it like a horse over ice.

_Maybe that's it,_ he thinks. _Maybe I've finally hit breaking point and this travesty of a relationship can go back into the fantasy books Yuuma tried to take it from._

The thought makes him sick. It's not like he hasn't thought of ending it himself like a hundred times. But if he did, he'd want to at least end it _himself_ . Not just have it slip through his fingers because his thoughts, his decisions are being _again_ taken from him.

Fuck that. He's been controlled once, he's not doing it again.

He has to do _something_.

 

* * *

 

"Something," though, ends up being almost getting caught. Potentially. Maybe. More accurately, it involves walking while replaying dumb plans to show up and _somehow_ get Yuuma to drop the subject of him going MIA for two days and his general mental and emotional state, and only realising how much time has passed when he almost gets bumped into by a group of giggling students.

"Watch it," he snaps, only to do a double take when he notices their uniform.

They're from Yuuma's school. Classes are already done. _Yuuma doesn't go to any clubs,_ and maybe more importantly, he's probably out looking for him.

_Dumbass._

He definitely doesn't _run_ back to his hideout, but with the way his teeth are gritted, he might as well have been as far as his pride is concerned.

 

* * *

 

By the time he gets back, punches the wall a few times, and finally calms down, the screen of his D gazer has over twenty notifications.

His stomach sinks.

So much for playing the whole thing off when Yuuma's been spamming him. He should have just sent him a reply earlier. Joke about it or something. He'd be _mad_ , but not worried like--yeah, he's definitely worried, Vector thinks, checking the messages and cringing. And not just worried, he's _trying_ , making the first step as usual when he shouldn't have to, sending openings and suggestions.

... and he got the others involved. Which means that now, everyone knows he hasn't been sleeping either at Nasch's or at Yuuma's.

Groaning, he lets the gazer fall next to him and lies down on his stomach.

Why did he even freak out so much? So Kazuma had picked a few souvenirs from theirs ruins. Whatever. The guy was weird. Those earrings might not even be what he thinks. And even if they _are_ , what does it matter? Their owner's been dead for half a millenia.

(Dying seems to be something people do easily around him, even when he's not the one actively doing it. His parents hadn't actually been the first, and they definitely weren't the last.

Yuuma had somehow survived, but it hadn't been for lack of trying.)

He takes the box out of his pocket and opens it, letting the earrings fall into his hand. The small gold triangles gleam quietly in the dim light, and it feels weirdly empty, like he'd somehow expected them to jump out at him the way his father had. Claw at his skin, run him through. Nothing happens. Nothing's happened in a long time. It's all in the past.

So why is it fucking up his present now. Well, aside from the whole obvious "tried to kill like everyone he knows," but if Yuuma, if even _Nasch_ had let that slide, what's stopping him now?

He trusts Yuuma, as much as he hates to admit it. There's no betrayal waiting for him, and in a way he _hates_ it, because if there's anything he loves, it's to be validated, and the baseline paranoid he's been having ever since he came back to life hasn't really been. But as much as it pisses him off, there's a weird safety to it, and after centuries of trusting no one but himself, it feels good. Or would, if he allowed himself.

Next to him, the D Gazer lights up again. He picks it up absently.

On the screen, Yuuma is smiling, painfully fake but still weirdly earnest in the way he _tries_. A string of nausea slides through Vector's throat and into his stomach.

Before he can actually be sick, he closes the message and puts the D gazer down, turning on his side to avoid seeing its light.

He shakes his hand, and the earrings clink gently against each other.

 

* * *

 

The night doesn't bring any epiphany. Even after slipping into sleep at some point during the late afternoon, all his dreams give him are a vague feeling of unease and apprehension.

_B_ _etter than flashbacks_.

The earrings are still clasped in his hand. He frowns at them, feeling exasperation rise (really, what the fuck is his _deal_?), and puts them back in their box before sitting.

_Maybe I should just get my ears pierced and wear them._

He abruptly wonders if Yuuma might recognise them.

_It's Kazuma's fault for picking them up in the first place_ , he snarls to himself, picking up his D gazer to distract himself.

**_i love u_ **

His breath catches.

" _Fuck_ ," he grits out, not sure whether he's whispering or yelling.

He checks the timestamp. Four hours ago. Too late for any decent reply, even if he _was_ capable of being decent, which, if he's pushed Yuuma this far, he obviously isn't.

" _Fuck you_ ," he whispers again, pressing his head against his knees, and he's not sure who he's saying it to.

Yuuma would _want_ him to have the damn earrings, and it just makes everything worse.

 

* * *

 

By the time the sun rises, he's managed to get the freakout under control.

The problem is: it's the only thing he has under control.

He considers briefly actually asking someone for help, but the downside of being an asocial asshole is this: there's nobody to ask. He _could_ ask Alit, if 1) he didn't already know he'd be bombarded with flowery variations on "just talk to him," and 2) Alit wasn't already helping Yuuma look for him and incapable of keeping a fucking secret.

If 96 had still been around, he could at least have asked him for his opinion. 96 was always a good person to ask when you wanted to know what not to do.

The person to ask, the one who really _knows_ Yuuma best, would be Kotori. But while he's acquired some grudging respect for the girl over time (her mental and emotional resilience really were off the charts, how was she friends with Yuuma?), he's never known how to talk to her. She knows too much and doesn't say half of it, and reminds him, sometimes, of the person he used to be, before things went to hell. Which, of course, is the number one way to make him want not to interact.

Kotori might have kept his secret. But who knows. It's not something he wants to risk.

The whole thing just makes him feel tired. It's like being a prince again, having to somehow figure out everything yourself without being able to trust anyone, because you never know who will actually side with you and who was loyal to your father and will give advice that you won't notice is harmful until it's too late. He remembers trusting his mother, mostly (but even to her, he sometimes felt, he was a tool of peace, at least as much as her child), but aside from her, he had always been alone. Except back then, it had felt worth it, because he was fighting for _peace_ , for thousands of lives, for the adoring, grateful looks of his people that made him feel at least a little bit worthy. Back then, working through problems and pain had seemed a small price to pay for bringing a little peace to the world and never having to look at a battlefield with his heart beating too fast ever again.

Now? Now, the only one he can fight for is himself. For a happiness he didn't even ask for and definitely doesn't deserve. It's not exactly a good motivation.

... and then Yuuma. And that's the whole fucking problem, isn't it? Because if he falls, he's not taking the fall alone.

The idea makes him bark out a laugh, and he flops back on the ground, closing his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Time slips away from him again. He could have _sworn_ he'd only just closed his eyes, and he knows he stayed there for a while, eyes closed but awake, but when he finally pushes himself up again and looks at his D gazer to catch the time and fight the disoriented feeling, it's already evening.

And Yuuma's already gone home.

The feeling that runs through him is both guilt and relief. At least he hadn't spent the day worrying over whether to make his existence known or not, this time.

His stomach cramps.

_Time to find food_ , he sighs, wondering if he's got enough change left or if he'll have to pickpocket or puppy eye his way into a meal.

 

* * *

 

In the end, he doesn't have to dirty his _mostly_ decent criminal record (the one he's had since he came back, anyway), because the convenience store he half-heartedly idles into is having a sale on the last of their meat buns. He grabs two, pays for them with the last of his change, and walks to the riverside to sit down and eat, and it's only by chance that he doesn't miss Yuuma's message, the light blinking weakly from his pocket just as he was looking down to grab his second bun.

**are u outside too?**

"What the--"

He scrolls up and freezes. Yuuma's outside, the idiot's probably climbed out of his window, and looking for him god knows where... and considering what _won't_ be closed at this time of night...

Before he can think better of it, or even have time to freak out about how to re-establish communication, he presses the dial button for audio call, and doesn't even wait for Yuuma to talk when after two rings he hears the line open.

"Yuuma, what the _fuck_."

There's silence on the other end, and after a few seconds of it he's almost ready to ask again when he hears--oh god that was definitely a sniffle. Fuck.

He actually made him cry.

"Look, Yuuma, I'm s--"

"Are you okay?" Yuuma asks on the other end, and he sounds so relieved and tearful and happy that Vector mentally curses Don Thousand for being dead so he has no one to just fucking suck and consume him _right there_.

"... I'm okay," he finally sighs, feeling drained and deflated. "Look, where are you right now?"

"I'm..." He pauses, and Vector hears footsteps before Yuuma reads the sign above his head.

Vector's mind does a pretty accurate imitation of a record scratch.

" _What!?_ "

"I thought you might be there!"

"Are you _kidding_ \-- fuck, Yuuma, what are you doing out in the middle of the night to begin with? You should be _safe_ at _home_ and--"

"Yeah well _so should you!_ "

That shuts him up.

" _You_ 're not safe at home," Yuuma continues, and there's definitely tears in his voice now and Vector wants to fucking die, "you're not at my house, you're not at Shark's place, I don't even know where you _sleep_ , if you're in a house or in the street, if something's _happened_ to you, you could have _died_ and I wouldn't even know!"

For several of Yuuma's laboured breaths, all Vector can do is wait in stunned silence, too shocked to even start thinking of a response.

He hasn't had such a slap in the face since Yuuma risked getting sucked in by Don Thousand to grab his hand, since...

... since his father drew his sword against him and his mother collapsed into his arms, spitting blood on his chest.

"I don't--" Yuuma continues, "I'm _worried_ , Vector, okay, and I..." his voice grows more quiet, "... I don't want to lose you."

_I'll protect you_.

He hates himself.

"... just say something..." Yuuma says, quietly, and he knows, he _knows_ the next word is going to be "please" and he can't handle that.

"I'm sorry." Yuuma shuts up, and he goes on, because fuck, he needs to salvage _something_ from this wreckage. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm all right. I'm not hurt and I'm not _mad_ and I'm definitely not dead." Yuuma hums into the gazer, and he puts on his best barian voice. "If someone _tried_ , you'd _know_ because they'd find the bodies."

"Wh--don't even _joke_ about that," Yuuma all but yells into the phone, and while half of him is telling him that _maybe_ that wasn't the best thing to say, the other half is glad that Yuuma's at least back to being angry at him.

"Look, I'll come back to school tomorrow, okay? So just go home. If something happens to _you_ , I _will_ have to snap a few necks, and then Nasch will be pissed at me."

He thinks he hears a groan of frustration, but instead of chastising him, Yuuma just asks:

"... promise you'll come?"

He takes a deep breath.

"I promise." Yuuma hums again, and before either of them can say good bye, he adds: "Send me a text when you get home."

"Huh?"

"So I know you didn't get murdered on the way."

There's a silence, and then the faint sound of shuffling.

"Okay." And then a huff. "You better keep your promise this time!"

"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."

He cuts the call, but not before hearing Yuuma's "night" coming from the screen.

 

* * *

 

An hour of lying in the grass and trying to make himself eat his second bun later, the gazer lights up again.

The moon, shining brightly through Yuuma's window.

Feeling like a complete tool, he raises his gazer and takes a picture of the sky from where he is, and sends it back.

_**I'm not sleeping outside though, don't worry** _ , he sends ten seconds later as an afterthought.

_**u better not >:c ** _ comes the reply.

He snorts and puts it back in his pocket.

Better find a way to sneak in and out of Nasch's house before sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuma is happy the next day. Deliriously happy, he thinks; it would probably explain how everything strikes him as subdued and why he wants to take a quick three-hour nap before heading to school, where he will no doubt feel even more happy.

“The hell happened to you last night,” Akari asks him when she enters the kitchen for breakfast, tone affronted. Which is rude, because if Yuuma can say so himself, his presence is not shocking so much as a pleasure to be around. “What, you couldn’t sleep? Were you up all night playing games again? Huh?”

“Leave me alone,” Yuuma means to say. He yawns instead, fantasizing about glaring at her since he doesn’t really have the will to actually do it now.

“Hey, Yuuma,” Mirai coos as she sits down as well. “You know if you don’t feel well, you can take a day off, right? It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to take care of my baby boy.”

Her hand strokes his hair, and he fantasizes about arguing against the fact that he’s not a little boy anymore and swiping her hand away too as opposed to really trying the act. “Quit it, mom!” Akari does it for him anyway. “He’s not a young kid anymore; you’ll spoil him!”

“It’d be making up for lost time,” Mirai chuckles, and Yuuma is almost glad that he’s too tired to really react to his family right now. It was a light joke, but a peculiar sort of yearning crops up at her words.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, taking another bite of food to avoid having to talk more. He ignores Akari’s serves-you-right lecture about the importance of sleep and finishes his breakfast with a thanks to Haru and Obomi.

It’s only when he’s putting his shoes on when he asks Mirai, “Where’s dad?” It’s always up-in-the-air whether or not he’d see Kazuma in the mornings before classes or not. “Did he leave already?”

Mirai hums in affirmation. “You know him.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. The soothing dreariness that he woken up with is gradually dissipating and making way for a more weary feeling of tiredness that makes him want to stick his head in the ground. “I’ll be going now. Have fun at work later?”

“Yes,” Mirai replies. Then, “We love you, Yuuma.”

He pauses at the door and turns. His mother’s smile is softer now, something about her gaze familiar in a way that makes him think he’s seen the expression in his reflection a few times, and he wonders what would make her look as contemplative as he sometimes did, even through a smile.

“I love you too,” he says. The world feels a little softer again and his head a little lighter when he steps out.

* * *

 

He doesn’t tell Kotori or Tetsuo why he looks like he crept out of a coffin today, only insists that all it was is that he couldn’t sleep last night.

And not that it would have made a difference, but he should probably learn to look in the mirror for more than a few seconds before leaving the house most days, because he finds himself startlingly offended when Gilag approaches him and asks, “Ponta?”

“Excuse me?” Yuuma bites. He had just been looking for the love of his life who had promised to show up today, and _now_ he finds out that he’ll have to face their reunion looking like a resentful racoon? “ _No?_ ”

“Oh.” Gilag shrugs and pretends not to be proud of making Kotori laugh. “For a minute, you looked just like him, but I guess you don’t have the cute little nose.”

“ _Have you seen Vector_ ,” Yuuma interjects before the subject of his apparently horrendous face can go any further. “He messaged me last night saying sorry and that he’d be here.”

“Really?” Kotori blinks at Yuuma. “That’s great news, Yuuma!”

“I told you he’d turn up.” Tetsuo gives him a smile as well, and Yuuma would cheer in delight for how happy they are for him and Vector if he weren’t feeling tempted to skip homeroom to get a caffeinated drink.

“Yeah, that’s why I came looking for you,” Gilag answers. “I saw him just now, uniform and everything! He’s seems fine too; completely ignored me when I called him and just went straight to class.”

Yuuma perks up and moves, finally as quick as he usually is in the mornings. He sees Vector right away, not at his own seat but standing by Yuuma’s, and the little bit of consideration makes Yuuma smile a bit wider.

“Vector!” He greets, skipping to him and wrapping the other in a hug. His boyfriend isn’t surprised at the gesture (no one knowing Yuuma would be), and softly hugs him back, loose arms holding onto Yuuma’s sides.

“Make the public displays a little more obvious, why don’t you,” Vector says, and Yuuma has half the mind to take him up on the challenge and kiss him, but stops himself, stepping back and finally noticing the state of Vector’s face. “You…look like shit…”

“You too!” Yuuma cheers, cupping Vector’s cheeks in admiration and honestly feeling some relief that at least in this way, they match, Yuuma not the only one who’d woken up at the wrong side of the bed. “I’ve really missed you,” he confesses to Vector’s affronted sneer.

“I can _tell_ ,” Vector replies, glum. “ _Thanks_ for **all the fucking messages** , Yuuma. You can let go now.”

“ _No!_ ” Yuuma whines, pulling at Vector’s arm. “You might disappear again!”

“I didn’t _disappear_ , fuck, Yuuma!” He peers around and glares at the other few students who came inside before the first bell rang and snaps, “ _What?_ What are you looking at – never seen an emotional boyfriend before?”

“I’m not emotional; I was worried,” Yuuma deems to correct him, stepping to the side and coming between Vector and the others. “None of us knew what happened to you! Were you okay? Can we talk about it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Vector grits out. “Later. Promise.”

This one comes across more callous than reassuring, but Yuuma takes it. He’s been able to prod Vector into talking before, so as long as he doesn’t vanish off now, Yuuma can probably get him to tell him what happened.

“Okay,” he allows. Vector’s here now, and that’s enough; not everything has to be fixed at once.

Vector sighs, “You’re really not letting go. Fine. Ten until homeroom starts; what’s you and me check out the vending machines real quick?”

Yuuma hangs on his arm as they leave the classroom, pretending to ignore the curious side glances that their fellow students give them as they leave. Their relationship is hardly a secret, as is “Shingetsu’s” new-found attitude after his long absence and his friends’ penchant for calling him by a different name, but Vector could usually keep his cool on school grounds, at least.

That part of Vector seems off today, his boyfriend tense in his hold and eyes narrowed to near-slits once they’re joined with the company of others. Kotori greets, “Welcome back,” and Tetsuo asks, “Where’ve you been,” and Vector scoffs at both, shrugging and looking down, almost letting Yuuma lead him completely.

“We both stayed up late, so.” Yuuma explains his act for them, but can’t really bounce back any backlash Vector might face once Alit arrives.

“Ah, now that’s the sight I almost got in trouble to see!” Alit mentions playfully as soon as he sees them sharing a long can of coffee. “Nasch was about to fry my ass for helping Yuuma find you,” he accuses, squinting down his nose at Vector. “Don’t run off like that again, sheesh.”

“Like you _had_ to try so hard,” Vector snarls. “I had nothing to do with you making the mistake of worrying for me, which _I’m sure_ you did plenty of, so you can quit the act now– Grruh!”

Vector was on a roll, but Yuuma manages to press the drink to his lips and get some of the contents in before withdrawing. Instead of reeling from a potentially hurtful comment, Alit laughs. “It’s good to have you back too, jackass. And what’s with chewing me out for worrying; Yuuma’s the one who did all the panicking for us.”

There’s no use denying that, and so Yuuma blushes. Vector sputters from the drinkable assault Yuuma subjected him to before responding, “Pointless of you.” It’s muttered so softly that the rest of them might not have heard, but Yuuma’s not even sure if the comment is directed at anyone but him; Vector glares solely at Yuuma as he says it.

Yuuma only pouts back, but instead of snarling another retort, Vector turns away, teeth gnawing in irritation.

Yuuma guiltlessly holds him in place when the bell rings, and urges their friends to go to class without them. The look Vector has on at that moment is worrisome, like he’d just been caught doing a crime rather than simply having to spend a minute more alone with Yuuma.

“What,” Vector asks softly, smoothing his face from what Yuuma’s already caught. “We might be late.”

“We won’t,” he promises, then broaches, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Vector repeats, and smiles. “You see me for the first time in days and then think something’s wrong?”

“That’s not what I mean!” Yuuma nearly yells, recognizing Vector dodging the subject but glad that he’s able to make the other laugh a little anyway. “I can wait for you to talk about it later, but say something now. I know something isn’t right. You said you aren’t mad, but you’re acting like you are.”

That gets Vector looking ashamed, at least, one hand going to scratch at his head nervously. “I’m not,” he grumbles, and then drawls, “I’m just tired, Yuuma.”

Yuuma doesn’t know whether he’s lying or if there’s some grand, hidden truth beneath Vector’s words, if Vector really is just tired but in more ways than just sleep-deprived. He finally eases his hold on Vector and moves his hands to the other’s neck, leaning in close and giving him a quick kiss.

The look he receives is less irate, but it’s definitely not yet the cool smirk or bashful scowl that would usually follow Yuuma initiating it. Vector frowns down at him, and not knowing what to make of it while Vector is still hesitant to say what’s on his mind, Yuuma pulls them both back to class before Vector can hang the blunder of getting them both in trouble with Ukyo over his head.

Once in class, Yuuma gives his hand another squeeze before letting go again. He goes to his own seat as well beside Kotori and listens to the lectures with only a tad more concentration than he had for the past two days, not helping but stare at Vector’s back as opposed to the teachers and their presentations.

More than once, Vector shifts in his seat and peers over his shoulder at Yuuma, as though he can sense Yuuma’s oogling. Vector sends him a small smile the first time he peeks at him, only to frown at Yuuma again, and the expression almost makes Yuuma feel paranoid, like something must be on his face or something’s wrong with the way he’s acting.

Long before break, the tables turn, and Yuuma’s eyes finally snap down. He’s able to keep from squirming in his seat when he thinks Vector is looking back at him again.

When break does come, Yuuma stands, but Vector beats him to it, striding towards Yuuma with another easy smile. “Rooftop today?” Vector asks. “Or cafeteria?”

“Uhm,” Yuuma blinks, glancing at Kotori for her preference before answering for them. He’d expected Vector to stay passive, or at least somewhat pissy. “The roof,” he answers, and Vector wraps an arm around his shoulders to lead him out.

They’re joined by more of their friends than usual once they get there, and Yuuma can guess why, but no one bugs Vector about it, including him. He checks Vector’s reaction though, just in case Vector _gets it_ , but his response to the crowded space is weird again, not an exaggerated sigh of resignation or an obliviousness to the others’ care, but almost like the time Yuuma had caught him with a morning hangover, like even the quiet voices of smaller crowds overbeared him. He rubs Vector’s arm before they sit.

“Yuuma,” Alit sounds urgent as soon as they get settled. “What did you bring for lunch? Durbe was all mother-hen this morning but he _sucks_ at it; look at this–” And Yuuma does, peering into Alit’s lunchbox. “–Did he even wash these vegetables or did he take it straight out of the plastic and dump them on us? And does _he_ eat all his food plain? Where’re the spices? Where’s the sauce? Where’s the sauce, Gilag?”

“There is no sauce,” Gilag answers.

“What do you have there, Yuuma?” Alit finishes, only for Cathy to shuffle forwards and block Yuuma’s view of him.

“If you want, Yuuma, you can share my lunch,” she suggests.

But Vector glares fully at Alit for having brought it up and mutters at him, “ _Yuuma and I_ are sharing today. Why did you even take Durbe’s offer? You know he always screws things up when he tries ‘taking care’ of us, and there’s a reason he’s not in charge of cooking.”

“He tries so hard, though?” Alit offers. He chooses not to see Rio shaking her head in disagreement over the sandwich she and her brother bought.

Yuuma chuckles and and shrugs. “Well. We did bring a lot anyway–”

“ _Like hell we did?_ ” Vector turns to him dubiously, tone testy. “We got enough for two, and considering how much _you_ can eat, it might not even be enough. Leave them with their bitter leaves.”

“How about your mustard?” Gilag asks. Tetsuo throws him his pack, and Yuuma concedes his too before Vector makes a grab for it.

“You too? Hell.” He sneers at Gilag. “Durbe’s probably in the caf. Why don’t you two go there and get some food then give _him_ shit about it instead of us?”

“It’s not like they’re freeloading!” Yuuma laughs, weary of Vector’s tantrum and going for defusing what could be causing it. “I owe them a lot for helping me. And yeah, Alit did almost get in trouble with Shark, for some reason.” He pushes some of his food to Alit’s box before Vector could argue, and instead of seeing Vector’s scowl, he stares at Shark. “Did you two make up, by the way?”

“ _No._ ” Shark blunts and turns away. Alit waves it off nervously.

“It’s no big deal,” he insists, holding his box close to him and easing away from Vector’s stink eye. “Thanks, Yuuma! Gilag, want some?”

“What’s this stupid conversation about, anyway?” Vector glances at Shark too, then. “Did you two fight about whether or not you _should_ find me, if I was worth the effort?”

Shark turns his head slowly and glowers at him, and Vector smiles. “That’s not it at all!” Kotori argues first, and Vector shifts his attention, blinking at her. “We just weren’t sure where to start, so there was some disagreement.”

“Nasch thought you went to another district,” Gilag adds. “We were thinking of going this weekend just to check.”

And Shark turns away again, shaking his head and muttering something about being hassled to Rio. “I _thought_ he was wrong,” Rio preens, and Vector does look back down at her gaze. “Like you have it in your budget to go too far.”

“Please,” Vector huffs. “I could’ve have gotten the money. In any case, guess I was right about you not knowing me as well as you thought you did, right, boss?”

“That’s just fine with me,” Shark snaps back, sneering opposite of Vector’s direction, but even as they’ve stopped meeting each others’ eyes, the rest of the group sits awkwardly between them.

“T-This is pretty good, isn’t it!” Yuuma squeals into the silence, leaning towards Alit with desperation. “Right, man? How is it?”

“Ha! Yeah! Pretty good!” Alit grimaces, once again finding Yuuma’s demeanor too strongly expressed and too contagious as a result. But he tries to help Yuuma despite knowing they do the shittiest job at defusing tension; Vector and Shark don’t even seem to be paying attention to them anymore. “Thanks so much! We should share more often!”

“Yeah!” Yuuma agrees as Vector simultaneously hisses, “Fuck no, the fuck’s wrong with you.”

They eventually get past the thick air, and lunch finishes with easier topics of upcoming lessons and events, plans for the weekend, and how to convince Mizael to stop using too much laundry detergent because who dumps that much per load anyway.

Yuuma doesn’t know if Vector even hears them anymore, the boyfriend looking out towards the view and eating his share silently. _Zoning out?_ Yuuma thinks, leaning onto him but not pushing, even as Vector gradually starts looking more bitter again as time passes and their break nears its end.

He doesn’t have to say anything or hold Vector back this time, the other staying with Yuuma even as the rest of their friends leave. “Do you want to talk about it now?” Yuuma tries, tilting his head to get Vector to look at him, but Vector only answers with a quick glance his way. Yuuma sighs and might as well mention, “You were kind of an ass just now; what was that about?”

Vector says quietly, “I happen to think I’m being very nice to you today.”

“Yeah, you’re nice to me everyday.” Vector huffs at that, but Yuuma continues. “You kept lashing out at the others though. Like, more than you usually do. What’s making you so edgy?”

“They’re just annoying, Yuuma,” Vector finally leans back and sighs dramatically. He smirks when Yuuma still pins him with a searching look. “Do you want me to be an ass to you instead, then? I already know you can get into that.”

“That’s _not_ where I was going with this,” Yuuma growls, moving to clean up after them while Vector chuckles.

After throwing their trash, Yuuma goes makes to head back inside, but pauses, noticing that Vector isn’t following him.

He stands and stares at Yuuma now, still thoughtful but lips pressed like he’s hesitating to speak. Yuuma allows himself to squirm now under the look, rubbing the back of his neck and considering, again, taking that first step, especially if something is stopping Vector from doing so. He replays the events of the past few days and wonders where to start.

“Listen,” he starts. “I know I was the only one who cried about it, sure, but the others–”

_–care about you too_ , he means to finish. _I’m sorry_ , he wonders if he should confess as well, Alit’s words from the other night having stayed with him. _I don’t understand all of you yet, and I don’t have to, but I want to try._

“It was Alit, right?” Vector interrupts, and Yuuma stops, eyes fluttering wide at the similar train of thought. “He’s the one who told you to look for me there? That’s why Nasch was pissed at him.”

“Huh? Ah, yeah,” Yuuma cringes when Vector tsks, teeth snapping together. “He didn’t mean to! It just came up, but he didn’t actually tell me to go there; that was all me. You’re not–” He pauses; no use asking if Vector’s mad when the answer’s obvious. “Don’t give him shit for it,” Yuuma urges, coming up and taking Vector by the hand. “Shark already did that plenty! And like I said, it was mostly my idea. Hash me out if you want to; I know you did last night.”

“Maybe I will, then.” The hold Yuuma has on Vector moves to the other’s wrist when Vector grips his shoulder. “You have one hell of a way of showing affection. How do you and Alit think I would’ve felt if something _did_ happen to you while you were out there by yourself? Did you think I’d be _happy?_ I thought after all this time, he’d have learned to keep his damn mouth shut by now.”

“Alit’s only like that because you’re his friend,” Yuuma argues, and oddly, Vector flinches. “Shark told him to keep some things to himself too, but he kept going because he _wanted_ you to be found. Alit and Shark were willing to get into a fight, but it was because they both love you in their own ways.”

Vector’s hands slide down and loosely hold onto Yuuma’s arms, and Yuuma clutches his shirt at seeing what might be disgust or anger or _something_ in Vector’s face.

“ _Love?_ ” Vector asks, and Yuuma worries, memory diving to their argument last week before Vector had run off. Though there’s no mockery in his voice this time, the phrase sounds dubious when coming from his lips, and Yuuma nearly panics when Vector pulls away from Yuuma’s grip and walks past him to the roof’s exit.

“Vector?” He keens. His anxiety must have made it into his voice, because Vector sighs and takes the time to reassure before leaving, “I’ll see you in class, Yuuma.”

Yuuma obeys the silent request to trust Vector and let him go off on his own. No one else is there to see him, and so he wrings his hands together nervously rather than fist them tough at his sides.

“Shit,” he curses. So much for promising to be patient while giving him time to adjust to his new life, never mind actually being able to promise it aloud.

* * *

 

_This isn't working_.

He'd had hopes. He'd _tried_. And maybe if he'd been around Yuuma and only Yuuma maybe he'd have managed to push all this shit down, plaster the smirk on his face and maybe kiss him by surprise at one point, and Yuuma, pure, simple soul that he is, would have accepted it. Maybe he could have actually told him a couple of things, as apology, and then let the rest slide, let it sink down and fester with the rest of his core. And things would be normal again, or as normal as an ex prince turned rock ghost turned middle schooler dating a kid trying to pretend he's never had the weight of the world on his shoulders would be.

But Yuuma isn't actually as simple as that.

Still, maybe he'd have _accepted_ it. He accepts too much. From not knowing enough to Vector's shitty moods to all the ex barians not acting like they owe him their lives. But with Nasch and Alit getting into his space like that, there's no way he can hold back the anger and bitterness that have been rotting right under his skin for the last few days, and Yuuma's not quite blind enough that he won't pick up on that.

So much for not making him worry anymore.

* * *

 

He goes to class anyway, because what else is there to do? Just running away would make Yuuma freak out again, and probably get him in trouble with the school. So he half-heartedly waits his way through math class (easy and distracting) and then history (good nap-with-your-eyes-open material), but the more he waits, the more he can feel Yuuma's eyes on his neck like a pair of hands caressing him and trying to soothe him, and it makes him want to bolt.

So when the bell rings, before Yuuma has time to catch up to him, it's exactly what he does.

The little box is still in his pocket and pressing into his leg as he walks, having been moved from his casual clothes to his uniform early that morning. The pain wakes him up, clears his head, and lets him breathe a bit easier.

_You need to get your shit together._

He should have told Yuuma about the earrings, too, for that matter. But that hadn't been _possible_ with all those meddlers around.

He wonders how Nasch would feel if he turned up with them.

The thought makes him stop.

... he could. He _could_ go get his ears pierced and put on the damn things, and that way he wouldn't have to worry about how to tell Yuuma about it, and Nasch would probably know where they come from, but he doubts he'd confront him about it... since when does Nasch act decent towards him, anyway? Since when do they actually _agree_ on anything. He gets the feeling, suddenly, that the ass had been _looking out for him_ , giving him space and trying to keep Yuuma out of trouble, and he feels vaguely offended.

_... you know what, fuck it._ It's petty, but the thought of Nasch _seeing_ him and having to control himself because he's too nice to actually _do_ something bad despite his rudeness feels more than a little validating.

And the pain would do him good. He's starting to appreciate its worth more and more.

Feeling more awake than he has in days, he whistles his way down the street and towards the cheapest shop he can think of that'll actually do it, no questions asked.

* * *

 

He doesn’t know what Vector is expecting him to do?? After the finger-biting emotional storm that was the past week for Yuuma, doesn’t it occur to Vector that Yuuma _will not be able to sit idly by without a little more assurance?_

Alright, maybe not just a little; maybe a ton, judging by Yuuma now trailing Vector from half a block behind him.

“What am I _doing_ ,” he seethes at himself, hunched over in both an effort to look smaller and inconspicuous as well as because it’s sort of what people _do_ when they’re worried they’ll be caught doing something wrong – they curl into themselves and hope that they don’t keel over from guilt or shame or paranoia.

“I was _just about to tell him_ that’d I give him space if he wanted it?” Yuuma simultaneously scolds and asks himself. It’s worse than when Astral would hang onto him, unseen by everyone else around them; people are sending him odd stares and, this time, he really _is_ just on the verge of yelling at himself. “But he didn’t even let me finish! So it’s not even my fault – I didn’t promise anything!”

_And what if he tries to disappear again_ , Yuuma adds silently. He stops when Vector does, the other standing by at a crosswalk and waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green. Yuuma risks it and shuffles forward to join the bunch of people waiting there with him; there’s enough afternoon traffic that his presence and footsteps shouldn’t be noticed anyway. He’s proven right when Vector doesn’t turn to him, and Yuuma continues to follow quietly from between strangers until they reach the sidewalk, and then maintains his distance again.

_I can’t just let him disappear again_ , Yuuma frowns, fighting against the self-doubt that accompanies the decision. _Not like this._ Not without the assurance that Vector would come back unscathed, not without the assurance that Vector wouldn’t be leaving from feeling _alienated_ or lonely while Yuuma and the others are still here to first try and _help him_.

And so Yuuma tries consoling himself. “This isn’t creepy.” Despite his inner monologue, it still comes out half-hearted. “Fuck, Vector.”

* * *

 

They walk for a little under ten minutes, Yuuma thinks, until he finally realizes where he’s letting Vector lead them.

_Hypocrite._ How can Vector even go here with his uniform on? They’re _minors_ , anyone with eyes to recognize their uniform can tell they’re minors, and Yuuma’s already glancing over his shoulders to check if anyone’s cared enough to glance at them for more than half a second to notice.

It’s still crowded though, and Yuuma guesses that the _streets_ are still public property. The establishments might be another story; he sees other students just a little older than him here-and-there, a group of young boys even standing their ground before an older man blocking the entrance to a building. “Come on, mister,” Yuuma hears one of the students say as he passes by. “We just want to look around. How much do you need to look the other way?”

He has to wonder what’s inside for them to sound so persistent. Still walking in Vector’s direction, he peeks over his shoulder at them. The building looks normal, four stories with just two windows lit and absolutely nothing spectacular about it from where Yuuma stands. He catches a sign though, at the side of the place rather than the front, and he almost stops walking completely just to read it.

He doesn’t get to, though, startled by a voice close by hollering, “Hey, kid! Young kid! What are you here for; you want to buy something from me? Come take a look!”

Yuuma just holds himself back from yelling at the shopkeeper to be quiet and dives under his table, concealing himself behind the tablecloth just as Vector turns to check on the commotion.

“Eh?” The shopkeep thankfully makes no further comment than that, but it probably helps that Yuuma hisses, “ _Shhhhhhhhh!!!_ ” The guy hums in response, and Yuuma waits several beats before he finally asks the man above him, “Is he gone?”

“Is who gone?” The man asks, for some reason prodding his foot into the tablecloth and prodding Yuuma’s back.

“The guy wearing the same uniform as me!” Yuuma snaps. “Red hair! Is he gone!”

“What will that information cost you,” is what Yuuma has to deal with for an answer, and he grits his teeth before crawling out from under there.

The guy still peers at him expectantly, but Yuuma turns away, looking left and right for Vector, wondering if he’d pop up and scream at Yuuma for stalking him. Yuuma cringes at the thought and makes to go in the direction he’d seen Vector walk off to.

“He’s here! The little boy is here!” The shopkeeper is the one who actually screams instead, and Yuuma whirls around in disbelief as the man grins and continues to try and _rat him out_. “This one’s wearing a uniform! His hair is–”

“ _Gahh_ , what do you _want!_ ” Yuuma shrieks, then realizes his mistake and dives once more under the man’s table, rattling the objects for sale overhead.

“The question is, what do _you_ want?” Pleasantness returns to his voice, and Yuuma grumbles and curses at him from under his station while he lists options. “I have bubble gum, cherry, banana. Sundae! Do you like sundae flavored?”

“Sundae flavored _what_ ,” Yuuma groans, and doesn’t have to wait long. The man crouches down too and lifts the tablecloth, and Yuuma sees the selection the man holds for him to choose from.

Yuuma must admit that despite everything he’s been through in his life up until this point, it takes him some time to process that right now at this moment he is actually being subjected to this thing happening to him. Eventually, he says, “I don’t have sex yet. I don’t want to get high.”

“What?” The man leans back from Yuuma and and stares. “Then what are you doing here?”

“ _I’m checking on my boyfriend_ ,” Yuuma sullenly and dutifully answers. The shopkeeper sighs in exasperation ( _ **He’s** annoyed!?_ Yuuma thinks), and stands, taking his items with him. He returns to his previous position a second later, and Yuuma protests at what he’s shown now, “Those cost a fortune! I don’t even _do_ that!”

“What _do_ you do, then!” He’s challenged. “What does your _boyfriend_ do if he comes here? Look, just buy these for your boyfriend. He’ll like them, maybe you will too.”

And despite what might be just internal enraged screaming at this whole scenario blasting in Yuuma’s head, he finds himself demanding, “Student discount.”

The shopkeep _sighs again_ but concedes, and Yuuma purchases a pack of potential-couple-activity for ten percent off. By the time he can shuffle safely out from under the meddler’s table and look around, he has no idea where the hell Vector’s gone off to.

“Your boyfriend went to the next block and around the corner,” his near-snitch _oh so helpfully_ provides. Yuuma can feel his eye tick when the other says, “Hope he didn’t get far.”

Yuuma takes his advice anyway, stomping at the direction he was told, no longer hunched forward with shame or doubt but with the contained urge to turn around and give that man more than just his munny. _I better be able to find Vector!_ He broods. _I better!_

* * *

 

He doesn’t for a solid half hour, one where he completely removes any pretense of being subtle or sneaky and just blatantly looks into the windows and doorways of whatever he can without being side-eyed or questioned.

“Why did I _hide_ in the first place!” He quickly reverts back to lecturing himself aloud, and doesn’t stop even when small groups of people point at him to their friends. “What was the _point_ of that, hell! So what if he caught me; I’d get yelled at maybe, so what! Where the hell could he have gone!”

“Pipe the fuck down,” someone slurs at him, and he does, having enough decency to blush from having made a scene.

After checking the places in the street Vector was last seen turning to and getting nothing for his efforts, Yuuma had decided to try his luck on the next block, going into every store and shop and bar he could get away with and giving an honest “I’m just looking for someone” if anyone stopped to ask.

By the time he’d turned back and started branching out to other directions besides straight in his search, he’d started actually describing Vector to anyone willing to listen to him.

“He’s a short guy,” he tells one woman now, hand estimating Vector’s height by hovering it just a bit over his head. “His hair makes him look taller – it’s red. Violet eyes.”

She shakes her head, and Yuuma sighs but still manages to thank her quickly before turning to exit.

“You want to stay here for a while?” She asks suddenly, and Yuuma freezes, wondering if he’s about to be swindled again. “I don’t know if you noticed, kid, but you’ve been being followed.”

“Huh?” Yuuma gawks at her and then outside the restaurant’s glass windows, regarding all the groups of people strolling or standing by outside.

Even so, he’s pretty sure he knows who she’s talking about. Three men who’d tried to talk to him earlier wait close by. Yuuma had _yelled at them_ when they’d tried approaching him, still flustered by what had happened before stacked atop his concern for Vector and had very clearly informed them that he had no money for which to buy anything from them anymore.

“Piss.” He curses, sulking. “Vector’s going to _kill me_.”

“Hm? You know them?” The lady asks. “Why are they trying to kill you?”

Realizing what his last sentence must’ve sounded like to a stranger’s ears, he rolls his eyes and clutches his head. “There are actual thugs stalking me and I’m still worried about my _boyfriend_ yelling at me!”

“Oh.” She says. Just a few yards away, one of Yuuma’s stalkers peeks to stare directly at him through the glass, and that’s all the motivation Yuuma needs to groan and turn away from them, acknowledging that, for some reason, they want to corner him outside but won’t come in.

“They won’t bother you in here,” the woman makes way for him to properly get past just the entrance and into the bar and restaurant. “I’m here, and there’s too many people. What can we get you?”

Yuuma considers his poor, poor wallet and mumbles the little amount he can afford at the moment. “Soda’s in the vending machine, then. Just pay at the register when you’re done. And you might want to call someone to pick you up – forget the guy you’re trying to look for.”

She leaves to return to her post, and Yuuma’s head falls into his open palms with a slap.

“What is _wrong with me_ ,” he criticizes himself for the umpteenth time this day, dragging his hand down his face as he makes his way to the vending machines. Following his boyfriend, only to _hide from him_ – and now he’s more antsy at the thought of having to _call him_ for help, not sure if calling Akari instead is the worse or better choice.

_They’d **both** kill me_ , he thinks, opening the cooler door and taking out the first thing his hand grabs. Well, maybe not Vector. _We’re equals, so asking him for help might not be **as** bad. _

Still really fucking embarrassing though, especially since he’d originally come here to make sure Vector doesn’t get into trouble. He saddles himself on a barstool as he laments, pulling his bottle close to him to take comfort in its soothing coolness.

“ID,” the bartender tells him, squinting down and holding his hand out. Yuuma gapes and realizes what he’d just unknowingly pulled from the selection of drinks.

“I-It was an accident!” He blushes and explains morosely, already off his seat and moving to replace his drink. “I wasn’t paying attention!” _What place sticks alcohol in just the vending machine anyway!_

Seconds later, he sips at his flavored soda and wishes he really were allowed to drink himself into oblivion the way Vector sometimes has.

“I’m really screwing up a lot today,” he sighs once more into his hands. He’s been tired since this morning and maybe that was A Sign that today just wasn’t going to be his day, but when he takes out his D-Gazer and select’s Vector’s contact, he pauses in his act of surrender.

_“Yuuma, what the **fuck** ,”_ Vector’s anger rings shrilly in Yuuma’s memory. _“You should be **safe** at **home** –” “You have one hell of a way of showing affection,” “Did you think I’d be **happy?** ”_

“Aaaarrgghh,” Yuuma moans, roughly rubbing his scalp before making up his mind, replacing the Gazer in his hand with his wallet and standing up. He gives the money he owes before striding out, the woman from before raising her eyebrows at him as he leaves out the door.

The three of them perk as he steps outside, and raise their eyes to confront him head-on as he comes towards them.

“ _What_ ,” he demands. Like he’d fought over-zealous callous dads and alien royalty and even _Astral_ to be backed into a corner by some guys who couldn’t even enter a restaurant now, never mind go on letting his boyfriend think that he could waltz into danger and _not_ have Yuuma follow at his side and protect him. “What have you been following me for!”

“Oh, so he’s _not_ just good for hiding,” one of them snickers. “I was starting to think there was nothing behind that cute face, but maybe you have a spine after all.”

“Look who’s talking, asshole!” Yuuma counters. If there’s one thing Yuuma absolutely cannot screw up in, it’s making a scene, and the man reels at his loud tone. “Who stands outside waiting for someone to come out instead of facing them head-on? What kind of sleazy thing are you guys after that you can’t just _ask_!”

“You shit,” he hisses, starting to look panicked, and Yuuma isn’t sure if he makes to attack or run from the prying eyes of people around them when he tries stepping forward, but one of his partners stops him, holding a hand to his chest.

“You have some gall to say something you should be saying to yourself, don’t you think,” the guy provokes, calmer. “What are you doing here, kid? Come here following someone yourself and having the balls to walk around asking questions you shouldn’t. You’re just looking for trouble.”

And Yuuma has to gape at that, having expected something more typical like, “We want money,” or, “You’re coming with us,” and not, “We caught you acting sneaky and suspicious and _we’re_ the ones investigating _you_.”

“He’s probably some cop’s snitch,” their third member sneers, and the hostile glare he sends Yuuma is enough for Yuuma to go back to feeling defensive.

“I’m not!” He says, only for it to belatedly occur to him that it sounds like something a cop’s snitch _would_ say. “And don’t turn this around on me! Why have you guys been watching me?”

“You don’t _know_?” The first man speaks again with a tone of utter disdain. “You’re looking for him and you don’t _know_?”

“Don’t know _wha_ –” Yuuma’s mouth clicks shut as it dawns on him, and he comes closer. “You know where he is!”

“He has a brain,” one of them mutters, and it takes a lot for Yuuma to control himself for the sake of seeing Vector again and not hurl an insult in return.

It takes very little effort to convince them to lead him to Vector. If anything, Yuuma guesses that was their plan all along, the way they talk about “the one this kid was following” in connection with their “boss” almost giving Yuuma the impression that these are Vector’s lackeys. Impressive, but Yuuma honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

Still, despite how confident Yuuma is in his deduction skills, he can’t help but keep in mind that he could be _completely wrong about all of this_ and that he misunderstood. For all he knows, the men guiding him in an obnoxious triangle formation could be leading him to someone who’d make Yuuma into the subject of next morning’s news. Worrisome, but really, it’s nothing new in Yuuma’s life – sans the potential lack of space magic and maybe card games.

They finally make it to a small jewelry store, and most of the tension seeps out of Yuuma once they get past the entryway and one of the men calls for someone deeper inside. “Shingetsu!”

Yuuma increases his pace, making to go ahead of the others when a hand stops him and slows him down. “Hey, Shingetsu! We got something for you.”

“I’m here.” Vector’s irritated voice comes from beyond an open door. Yuuma _could cry_ from the sound of it. He forces his feet to keep the same gradual pace that the rest of them enter the room with. “I got your message _ages ago_. Whatever you said was so important for me to wait here had better be damn good.”

“It is,” one of them replies as Vector sees him. And Yuuma _can’t say_ that his boyfriend looks happy to see him, no matter how much Yuuma doesn’t share that sentiment. Vector’s eyes flutter wide with shock in one moment, and quickly burn Yuuma and their company the next, lips curling as the heels of his changed, out-of-school outfit click forward.

Vector repeats, snarling, “Yuuma. What the _fuck_.”

“You know this kid?” Someone from behind Yuuma asks, and Vector shoots him a wide glare. Even Yuuma reels from how Barian it looks on him.

“ _Shut up._ Who said you can talk? _Wait outside_ if you can’t behave.”

There’s a brief moment when the three of them shift, uncertain, before one by one they leave the room. “You don’t even know why we brought him here,” the last man to leave points out quietly. “I saw him follow you, he kept asking people where you are–”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Vector spits. “Alright, I _get it_ and I’ll take care of it, now _leave_.”

He does, and Vector strides past Yuuma to the doorway, checking to see if there’s enough distance so that eavesdropping would be impossible before swinging the door shut. Yuuma jumps at the bang, the sound of Vector latching it locked both relieving to Yuuma and slightly disconcerting.

But Vector doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t speak first or even moves his hands from the lock, and so Yuuma gives him a minute to collect himself, returning to staring at Vector’s back and wondering what their next step will be.

He peers around before speaking, taking in the small tools perched on the vanity and the reclinable chair in front of it. On the walls are choices for both jewelry and tattoos. At that, Yuuma’s eyes rest on Vector again.

“You…got your ears pierced?” Yuuma guesses. At his voice, Vector takes a deep breath, huffing it out in a long sigh, and Yuuma smiles nervously at the fact that him being here riled his boyfriend up enough that he needed a minute to _calm down_. “Um. Let me see them? You know who else got her ears pierced lately? Akari. She had the lobes done already but wanted the fancy earrings too, the kind that reaches the upper ear. Like the kind Mizael has.”

“Are you _out of your mind_ ,” Vector finally snaps. Yuuma clicks his mouth shut. “Do you know who those guys are, what they think I might be doing to you right now? They told me they were waiting you out at a safe place where they couldn’t reach you. You didn’t think to call for help _there_? You didn’t think to call _me_? Did you just walk right to them!”

_Yes?_ Yuuma cringes and says nothing, but Vector stops at the tint on his cheeks.

“ _Did_ you just walk up to them?” He leans towards Yuuma and asks, unrhetorical.

“Sort of,” Yuuma answers, actually tempted to back away.

“ _Sort of_ ,” Vector mocks, then yells, “ _Sort of!_ ”

“They were _following_ me!” Yuuma defends himself. Granted, Vector has a point, but he’s still sticking to his guns – the part of him that was inspired to confront them in the first place and all the reasons for why he did it.

“If punks like that are following you, you _run_!” Vector roars at him, for the first time in a long time, and Yuuma’s teeth clench, his shoulders bristling with defiance and concern. “If you can call me for help, you call me – and if you know you’re _walking into a place that isn’t safe, you stop_ and turn around! Do I have to spell these rules out for you?”

Blood rushes to Vector’s face now too, more colored than Yuuma’s, and they’re close enough that Yuuma can see that yes, Vector’s ears are pierced, and his teeth snap as he finishes his sentences, and the fear present in Vector’s face is something that Yuuma’s witnessed before. “Do you even realize how often the things you do can get you killed? I have to scream at you, _talk to you like this_ , here of all places, for it to sink it? Or is even this not enough – either you actually get yourself hurt or I fucking resort to _locking you up_ to prevent that; _is that what has to happen?_ ”

“Well what did you expect from me! I was worried, I care about you – and if you were expecting to have a boyfriend that _doesn’t_ care then that’s just too bad for you!” Yuuma confronts before Vector could go on. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m not going to leave you alone while you’re _obviously going through something_ , I’m not going to let you go by _yourself_ to dangerous places where _you_ can get hurt. Ever think of that! Huh, smart guy? Because for someone who knows all about how _I_ can get killed, you act like the same doesn’t apply to _you_ , or that _I_ don’t get scared for _you_!”

He knows he’s getting somewhere with Vector when the other doesn’t make another comeback right away, when the fear Yuuma’d caught in Vector’s eyes dwindles the more Vector thinks on his sappy speech. “I’m not your acquaintance, I’m not with you just for _benefits_. I’m your friend! I’m your boyfriend! And if anyone here needs to be _‘locked up’_ so he doesn’t get himself into trouble every half day, it’s you!”

And there it is. Vector flinches, moving back from his looming posture and making space again, enough to regard Yuuma more clearly. Yuuma hadn’t stepped back even in the midst of Vector’s tirade, and he doesn’t move now, having meant it when he confessed he’d stay by Vector’s side, and wanting Vector to feel its sincerity through more than just his words.

The sound of knocking startles them both, and they turn to the closed door as a hesitant voice asks, “Is everything alright in there, sir?”

“What did I say about waiting outside,” Vector challenges, but the fury has left his voice and the knots have left his arms and shoulders. “Yes, everything is fine. You were worked up over nothing, as usual. This kid is harmless.”

Yuuma squints at the patronizing, but relaxes too when Vector laughs tiredly. “Fuck, Yuuma.” His voice is quiet, and he rubs his neck as he mutters, “You can really get a guy worked up.”

It sounds like a compliment or a praise, and Yuuma blushes, not helping but speak before Vector makes to unlock the door. “Erm, about that last part. I didn’t mean it.” At Vector’s confusion, he clears his throat and clarifies, “The benefits thing. I know you don’t think we’re just doing this for benefits. It just…came out…”

“Oh yeah,” Vector replies. “Yeah, that was weird.”

Yuuma can tell it’s bait, but he takes it anyway, sputtering, “Y-Yeah but! What about you, aren’t you going to apologize for the weird stuff you said?”

“Hm? Well,” he stares down, considering. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you. But you have a way of really making me look uncool.”

“You _are_ uncool,” Yuuma mutters. “Half the things you say when you’re mad are just too much. You really should be locked up for being such a stubborn jackass.”

Vector smiles at that, small but unstrained and easy, and before going to open the door, he leans towards him just a bit to murmur, “ _You’d_ look better in a cage, Yuuma.”

Vector leaves before Yuuma can threaten to stick a needle through more than just his ear, and he can do no more than follow, stepping out of the room and the thick air they’d breathed into it and meeting with two of the three men from before.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than pick on small children?” Vector hisses, and Yuuma forces himself to keep a straight face at the description and not ruin the mood his boyfriend his going for. _We go to the same class…_

“We thought he might be an informant,” one answers meekly. “It seemed like a good idea to let you know about it.”

“It was!” Vector’s smile is strained this time, willfully so and succeeding in the obvious intent to unsettle his comrades. “I’m _so glad_ you brought him to me, but next time, if you handle him half as roughly or try to scare him the way you did today,” he stares at one of them directly and sounds almost gleeful when finishing, “that new guard dog you got last week won’t be able to do shit to protect you.”

They really need to have a serious talk about all the extracurricular activities Vector’s been participating in once they feel settled again, Yuuma thinks. The man he speaks to nods stiffly, and when Vector faces the other man too, he speaks first. “W-We won’t hassle your boy again, sir!”

_‘Your boy.’_ Yuuma closes his eyes in the effort it takes not to glare at Vector’s back. The topic of Vector not acting like his supposed age and making it look like they don’t go to school together also makes it into the growing list of subjects they need to Talk About.

“Good.” Yuuma tries to give Vector his most unimpressed face when Vector turns to him and has the nerve to look pleased and proud of himself. He’s already got an arm over Yuuma’s shoulders and walks to the exit when he asks the men, “Then, if there’s nothing else you _have_ to tell me today…?”

They keep walking, Vector leading and Yuuma honestly having no clue where the hell they are anymore, a piece of information that he keeps to himself. He says nothing at first, taking in the fact that he’s managed to get a hold of his boyfriend again and they are walking home (most likely) together with the setting sun. He wonders if Vector still feels tired when he himself feels, at least for now, content.

“When did you change your clothes,” Yuuma asks. He turns to Vector when he doesn’t answer right away. “Where _is_ your uniform? Did you leave it back there? Did you forget it while you were busy trying to look scary?”

“I changed _somewhere else_ , Yuuma.” Vector clips. “And yes, I’ll have to go back there to get my stuff back, but first I’m walking you back to the Square. You’ll know your way home from there.”

“What? Why!” Yuuma grabs for the arm around him. “Why can’t I just go with you to get it and then we’ll go home together! I thought I told you to quit it with the whole lone wolf stuff!”  

"What," Vector teases before he can stop himself, "are you afraid I'll _disappear_?" Yuuma's body tenses in his hold, and he kicks himself mentally. _Too soon, you asshole._ "--fine, sorry--I want to get something. I'll meet you back at home when I'm done, promise."

Yuuma's mouth opens as if to ask why, but he cuts him off.

"It's a _surprise_ , Yuuma. You wouldn't want to ruin it, right? You already ruined my _cool effect_  by making me say it."

“How was I supposed to know,” Yuuma banters back. “You’re always looking for trouble, I feel like I need to put a GPS on you. You’re making me sound weird!”

“Oh, trust me, I had nothing to do with that.”

It doesn’t take them long to reach an area Yuuma’s more familiar with, but despite not being hopelessly lost anymore, Yuuma isn’t relieved at the familiar landmarks, and tries to prolong the disappointment that letting Vector go would inspire by holding onto him and keeping the same pace they used to get there. Vector says nothing and lets him, Yuuma now guiding them both around the child-friendly environment that Heartland is more known for.

Vector doesn’t initiate anything until they reach the flowerbeds. By then, Yuuma had his head rested against Vector comfortably, and so Vector only needs to turn slightly to kiss the top of Yuuma’s head.

He stops. Yuuma doesn’t move from leaning against him, and so Vector says softly, “You know I’m not a safe guy to be with, right?”

“Hm?” Vector takes him by the shoulders and pries him back so that they face each other.

“You know that, right?” Vector presses, earnest in a way that he hasn’t been since the moment he’d run off on Yuuma days ago, and in a clearer way than he was minutes before when he was about to bite Yuuma’s head off. “People around me tend to get hurt, I know that now. I know that if you stick by me, the same thing that happened to them could happen to you. Do you realize that, Yuuma?”

In some ways, Yuuma saw this coming. Not like _this_ though. Somehow, he’d imagined this being brought up more directly, in whole individual conversations, without this much avoidance and without so much other factors getting in the way.

But maybe this is a _thing_ with Vector – like with Shingetsu, nothing that has to do with him is direct. Getting to know Vector better the closer they get isn’t as peaceful as watching a flower bloom; it’s something sharper and more evasive, and somehow the heavy weight of it sits snugly on Yuuma’s heart.

“Yeah,” Yuuma answers. “It’s fine.” He leans into Vector again and hugs him, lips kissing the crook of his neck.

* * *

The wall and roof to Yuuma's window, Vector thinks, are way too easy to scale.

He'd tell Kazuma and his wife about what a huge security breach it is and what neglectful parents they're being for allowing anyone to just hop into Yuuma's room, except he doesn't want to give up on his most practical way to get in when he doesn't want to bother with socialisation or questions.

Nor on Yuuma's reactions when he does it unannounced.

"Ghya-- _Vector!_ " Yuuma coughs as Vector wraps himself around him from behind and gives his neck a nibble. "Why can't you just _knock_?"

"The window was open, Yuuma. And it's your own fault for spacing out."

" _You_ 're the reason I was spacing out in the _first_ place!"

"I'm flattered!" He'd used his cute Shingetsu voice, and Yuuma glares at him before huffing and bringing his hands to cradle Vector's own on his stomach.

It feels surprisingly warm, and with the light fading, he actually feels relaxed enough to rest his chin on Yuuma's shoulder.

"... did you think I wouldn't come?" he finally asks after a few moments of silence.

Yuuma shakes his head.

"No. I _trust_ you, I just..." He sighs. "I'm worried about you."

Vector pulls his arms back from Yuuma's waist.

"Vector?" Yuuma asks, and Vector cringes, because from the tone of his voice, he's managed to worry him even _more_ again, so he kicks himself and tries to actually make his thoughts known, for fucking once.

"I don't make promises easily. And I _do_ try to keep them, especially when it comes to you."

He gives a side smile with it, circling Yuuma to face him, and Yuuma blinks and then answers with a shy smile of his own.

(This kid is gonna be the death of him)

He can feel himself frowning again at the display of cuteness, so he fishes instead in his pocket for the small box he'd taken from Yuuma's attic years-- _days_ ago. He keeps his eyes on Yuuma when he pulls it out, watching for his reaction. Yuuma's eyes widen.

"Hey, isn't that--"

"I found it here the other day. Remember what's in it?"

Yuuma pouts in concentration for a second, confirming Vector's theory that even if he _has_ checked every object in the attic at least a dozen times, Yuuma's attention and memory were more predisposed to homing in on scary masks and strange artefacts than a delicate pair of earrings.

"... wasn't it some kind of jewelry?"

Vector nods and opens the box.

Yuuma's eyes widen again in comprehension, and he reaches for the box and its contents, carefully spilling them into his hand.

"Is that why you got your ears pierced?"

"Yeah." He pauses, weights. Hesitates. "... they were my mother's, I think."

Yuuma's eyes snap back up to him, sharp with focus more than shock, and he gives a side smile, continuing in a slightly nonchalant voice: "It looks like them anyway. It's the same craftsmanship, and not everyone could afford gold back in the day."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I _would_ have, probably, except by the time I thought about it I'd been outside for two days." He sees Yuuma's frown, almost finds an excuse to be an ass and run away, and instead tries to remind himself of Yuuma's anger and determination, how aggressively he'd sworn he _would_ protect him too. That he shouldn't run away from him like this. "... finding them fucked me up. It was like getting a faceful of memories again--like against Nasch. 'Hey, Vector, how are you feeling today, how about you suddenly relive your most traumatic memory!' It not being the first time I remember it only made it a _bit_ better." He sighs, rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't realise I'd freaked out until I was already gone. And _then_ I had no idea how to deal with it. Or come back to you. Even when I'm not _trying_ \--and don't fool yourself, Yuuma, I _am_ trying, way too often--I end up being an ass to you."

"I'm kinda used to it," Yuuma jokes, "it's gonna be hard to break your record." Vector frowns, but before he can lash out again, Yuuma reaches forward and takes hold of his hand. "... you don't need anything big to come back, you know? If you _really_ mess up, yeah, I'm gonna be mad until you apologise, but... That's it. That's all you need to do."

Vector eyes him for a few seconds.

"... you have really low standards, you know that? I could make a false one and keep using you."

"I trust you."

The punch in the gut is almost as hard as the one he'd gotten from the damn earrings.

" _Shit_ ," he hisses, looking away, and for a second he thinks his heart is going to mess up again the way his breathing already _is_. "Thanks for the fucking pressure," he grits out, but he squeezes Yuuma's hand anyway.

Yuuma's only answer is to squeeze back.

And he kind of hates himself for it, but he can't leave now. _Somehow_ the idiot's made himself care about him, and he's not about to let him hurt himself trying to protect him or get him back. He wouldn't even be surprised if the kid started facing much worse than a couple of would-be thugs for his sake (he already has).

_Someone_ has to protect Yuuma from himself.

(He is fully aware of the irony in this sentence)

"... I figured you wouldn't mind me keeping them," he finally says, "so I went ahead and got the piercing done." If there's at least one thing he can trust Yuuma on, it's getting in his face when he does shit wrong, even if he does forgive him too easily for it.

"Huh? Of course I don't. They're your mom's, right? So they're yours now. It's lucky they ended up here instead of getting lost, huh?"

He snorts.

"What, are you gonna say it's _destiny_ now?"

Yuuma laughs.

"Hey, maybe it _was_!" Vector rolls his eyes, and Yuuma shuffles closer. "Let me see?"

"What?"

"Your _ears_ , dummy. I can't _see_ them with your hair in the way."

* * *

Vector tilts his head, tucks some hair behind his ear, and shrugs his shoulder down.

Yuuma's fingers slide behind the lobe of his ear, surprisingly careful, and Vector, to his inner outrage, has to repress a shiver.

"So why didn't they put yours in?"

"You have to wait for it to scar properly, or it can get infected." He snorts. "Apparently, 'threatening people won't make it heal faster.' Do they think we had special anti-allergy coatings back when I first got them pierced?"

Yuuma giggles.

"At least he didn't run away when you threatened him. Then you wouldn't even have gotten them done."

"He's seen worse. Not like those puppies. All bark and no bite."

Yuuma shakes his head and rolls his eyes, still smiling, and Vector wonders just how long he plans to stay there with his ear caught on his fingers.

The only answer he gets is Yuuma's fingers closing around the end of the lobe and rolling it gently. The movement makes the small stud earring shift, and his breath catches.

"... didn't it hurt?" Yuuma asks.

"That was part of the _point_."

Yuuma frowns and straightens, but Vector sighs.

"It kicked the fog out of my brain. Helped me snap out of it."

He doesn't mention all the times he'd used exactly the same thing even before his parents' death, how he let things hurt him in little quiet ways to help him focus and stay on track. How even with his memories rewritten he'd taken too much satisfaction in the sharp pain of battle, like a part of him that lay dormant inside needed the punishment not to crumble.

He doesn't talk about the fierce, spiteful satisfaction of shoving a broken blade inside his own chest, letting himself live through his last painful moments fully rather than letting the spirits lashing at him tear his sense of self from him _again_.

But then again, neither does he lie.

The frown on Yuuma's face hasn't disappeared, but Vector gives him a small smile. After all, if there's one thing the pain did, it's make him feel more at peace.

"Yuuma. I'm okay."

"... if you're _sure_."

"I'm sure." He rolls his eyes. "Come on, I'm not that stupid. If I tried to hurt myself you'd probably jump in front of the knife, and then I'd feel _bad_."

Yuuma huffs, starts mumbling something about "you'd better," but Vector interrupts him.

" _Anyway._ I thought I couldn't just take them and not give you anything in exchange. That's be _stealing_ and I'm an upstanding citizen these days."

"Yeah right."

"Shut up, do you want that present or not?"

"... wait, you actually got me something?"

"Yeah."

The way Yuuma's eyes widen with excitement is downright illegal, and Vector starts to Regret His Choice.

"It's nothing _big_ \--close your eyes," he grumbles.

Yuuma grins and does.

For a second, as he pulls his _other_ box out of his pocket, he hesitates.

The Emperor's Key is shining conspicuously on Yuuma's chest, and suddenly his choice of jewelry feels stupid. He could've gotten him a bracelet. A ring--no, not a ring. But he can't help but feel like Yuuma might get mad, like he's crossing a line.

_You're different_ , Yuuma had said, _and this is different. And you're just as important to me._

... maybe not.

Before he can chicken out, he leans forward and reaches around Yuuma's neck, fastening the chain at the back.

Yuuma startles a little.

"Huh?"

"Don't move."

He closes the clasp and lets the chain run over his fingers as he brings his hands to the front of Yuuma's chest, letting it fall in place properly, the pendant hanging right in the middle.

"There," he says, sitting back.

Yuuma's hand goes up to touch it before he even opens his eyes.

It's nothing too showy. Vector'd had to fight back the instincts of a centuries-old fashion sense (Yuuma is _important_ , he needs something _imposing_ ), but there's still something about the sturdy, triangular shape of the silver pendant that feels familiar. The stone in the middle isn't exactly _small_ , but it's not _too_ showy, and something too delicate wouldn't have worked with Yuuma anyway. The soft, oval finish of it softens the rounded corners even more, and Vector notes with satisfaction that his wild guess on the chain's length had been right. It sits a hand's width above the key, far away enough that it won't tangle with it, but not too high that it'll look like it's strangling him. It looks relaxed and natural, and he can't help but smile as Yuuma traces it with his fingers and looks down.

"I figured pink and black would work with your hair," he points out, leaning back.

It's worth it for the blink and the blush on Yuuma's cheeks.

"I--thanks-- _augh_ ," he suddenly breaks, pulling his knees up and hiding in them.

For a second, Vector thinks he's messed up.

"Yuuma?"

"Itsreallynice," Yuuma mumbles into his knees, and when he leans closer Vector can see that he's blushing hard enough for his skin to meld into his bangs.

"... are you em-ba-rraaassed?" he sings in his sweetest voice.

"Shut up!" He looks up, and sure enough, he's bright red and his cheeks are puffed. "Yeah I'm embarrassed. So what?"

"It looks good on you," Vector says with a grin, because at least if Yuuma's embarrassed, he doesn't have to be (thanks).

There's a slight pause, and then before he can even blink, Yuuma's reached out and pulled him close and is kissing him, eyes tightly shut.

It takes Vector a few seconds to react, to push away the discomfort he fears he'll always feel when people he loves throw themselves at him, but when he does he tilts his head slightly to make Yuuma's awkward kiss a bit more comfortable, braces himself on the ground with one hand, and brings the other to the back of Yuuma's head, craddling and caressing in what he doesn't even try to pretend isn't a possessive gesture.

"Is that your way of thanking me?" he whispers when Yuuma breaks the kiss, keeping his hold on his head firm.

Yuuma pouts, and Vector, for the first time since he can remember, lets out a small, completely involuntary laugh and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! Extras of this universe may or may not also be included later on.
> 
> Check out the combined/original version of [LittleLinor's cover art here!](http://i.imgur.com/lMIz0o3.png)
> 
> The stone that Vector gives Yuma is a rhodonite; [here's a nice image of it.](http://www.madagascarminerals.com/prod_images_blowup/rhodonite-heart-carvings-2inch-wide-31.jpg)
> 
> Working on this was pretty challenging and fun. Please leave kudos to wish Vector and Yuma happiness, or comment to yell at them. Just scream at them.


End file.
